A little soap.
A lot of love. A perfect day.
Bath Day happened every Saturday.
The three puppies knew this.
They simply refused to agree on what Bath Day actually meant.
Luna believed it was a spa.
Mocha believed it was a swimming competition.
Biscuit believed it was an elaborate escape room.
The young woman arrived carrying a basket filled with towels.
She wore her oversized round glasses.
The puppies considered this an official signal.
Running commenced immediately.
Luna leaped into the bathtub before anyone invited her.
She adored warm water.
If possible, she would happily live there.
Mocha disappeared beneath the sink.
Nobody understood why.
Perhaps every adventure deserved a mysterious beginning.
Biscuit raced triumphantly through the bathroom carrying the bath sponge.
This seemed useful.
Only not for bathing.
The woman smiled.
“We’re already improvising.”
Nobody objected.
Improvisation had become a family tradition.
She found Mocha hiding behind the laundry basket.
“You know baths are unavoidable.”
Mocha sighed dramatically.
“I know.”
It did not actually know.
It merely had expressive eyebrows.
Luna was already covered in bubbles.
She regarded this as formal evening wear.
Biscuit discovered the faucet.
Every few seconds it managed to spray water in an entirely unexpected direction.
The mirror.
The towels.
The ceiling.
Occasionally itself.
The young woman laughed so hard she nearly dropped the shampoo.
Outside the bathroom, the hallway slowly filled with drifting soap bubbles.
One floated into the kitchen.
Another reached the living room.
Grandpa wandered past the open door carrying a loaf of bread.
He watched one bubble float across the hallway.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Ah.”
“They’ve started decorating.”
The woman couldn’t stop laughing.
“They’re supposed to be getting clean.”
Grandpa watched Biscuit proudly chasing another bubble.
“I think they’re succeeding.”
“At bathing?”
“No.”
“At Saturday.”
That seemed like a perfectly reasonable answer.
By the time the last puppy was rinsed, the bathroom floor had become suspiciously wetter than the bathtub itself.
Nobody investigated.
Some mysteries preferred privacy.
The three puppies gathered on one fluffy towel.
Still damp.
Still smiling.
Still remarkably pleased with themselves.
The woman gently dried each tiny paw.
Luna promptly rolled in another patch of bubbles.
Mocha shook itself exactly beside Grandpa.
Biscuit proudly carried the empty shampoo bottle as though it had personally completed the entire operation.
Grandpa applauded.
The puppies accepted the applause with professional dignity.
The woman looked around the sparkling white bathroom.
There were bubbles on the mirror.
Bubbles on her glasses.
Bubbles in her hair.
And one stubborn bubble balanced perfectly on Biscuit’s nose.
She smiled.
“I think we missed a few spots.”
Grandpa looked around the room.
“No.”
“I think the soap cleaned exactly what it was supposed to.”
The puppies looked wonderfully ordinary.
The bathroom looked wonderfully impossible.
And somehow…
both seemed considerably happier than when the morning had begun.
Livora Gracely 
Leave a comment