My shower drain was finally fixed this weekend, so I could give Jake a long-overdue bath. He hates baths so much that when he sees me retrieve his special towel from the back porch, he runs into the living room and pretends he’s invisible. But I can see him. And, unfortunately, I can also smell him.

He spends the hour after his bath lying damp and naked (well, collarless) under my work table, licking himself until he smells like his regular, slightly biscuity-scented self.

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