It was bath day in the house of chaos.
By choice, I’ll have you know — I had a vision: clean, fluffy pups for our upcoming holiday. You know, the sort you see in family albums, not forensic crime scene photos. What I got was something between a pantomime and a fur-filled fever dream.

First up: Nala.
Nala was the outside job.
Before the hose even came out, I gave her a good rake — which she took as an affront to her very soul. You’d think I was exfoliating her with a cheese grater the way she carried on.

Once she’d forgiven me (she hadn’t), I set the hose to mildly offensive drizzle — anything more and she’d have called the RSPCA — and off we went.

Thirty seconds of hose. Suds. Shake.
Then she’d sprint off, tearing up clumps of grass like a one-dog landscaping crew, launching bubbles as she went. Repeat. She looked like a chaotic woodland sprite by the end, foamy and gleeful.

I think she’s clean. The local birds, at least, were thrilled — the raked-off Nala fluff left around the lawn made for five-star nesting material.

Next came Louis.
Into the bath he went, eyes full of betrayal, like I’d just told him we were out of biscuits and cancelled Christmas. Soaped, rinsed, and quietly devastated, he tolerated the process with a dramatic sigh every thirty seconds.

After towel-drying, I then made the very poor decision to trim his ear floof, Grinch feet, and feathers — indoors. In the living room.
Mistake number one.
It looked like I’d tried to wrestle a moulting chicken.
Fluff everywhere.

And finally, Penny.
Bathed after Louis, and as ever, entirely unbothered. Penny doesn’t do chaos. She simply sits.
She sat in the bath.
She sat while I shampooed.
She sat while I scrubbed her tail.
She sat, unmoving, while I blow-dried her into a serene cloud of pale fluff.

Which, when combined with Louis’ earlier fluff storm, officially turned the living room into a snow globe of canine fur and regret. The hoover made a noise that can only be described as emotional collapse.

Sorry for the lack of photographic evidence — somewhere between the flying bubbles, lawn sprinting, indoor grooming session and full-blown fluffnado, I forgot to pick up the camera. Honestly, I think it was too traumatised to focus anyway.

Still, all three are now gloriously clean.
Nala smells faintly of lavender and rebellion.
Louis smells of shampoo and passive aggression.
And Penny? Penny smells of calm superiority.

Would I do it again before our next holiday?

Absolutely not.
They’re all getting a short back and sides and a squirt of Febreze.