Max got a bath today.

And boy is he unhappy about it. He's lying on the floor near the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, alternately shooting me mournful looks and licking his delicate paws.

He also got his toenails clipped. For his reaction, see the previous sentences.

He's a big dog with a whole lot of fur and huge claws. His claws look like parrots' beaks and are just about as hard. Even with the racheted kind of nail clippers, it takes me both hands and a lot of sweating and cursing to clip one nail.

All of this happened today because I think he had a seizure overnight. I woke up to find him lying in a puddle of urine and feces, but unaware that he had soiled the floor. Normally if he has to go out, he's all up in my grill no matter the time of day (or night). He got up and walked fine after, though his back legs are chronically weak, and his reflexes were fine when I Furminated him this morning. If it had been a spine thing or a loss-of-control thing, he wouldn't have been as strong as usual, and he would've been extremely embarassed about soiling in the house. He has standards. If, however, he seized and then slept through the post-ictal period, he wouldn't be aware of what had happened.

So I'm thinking, hoping, praying seizure. Seizures I can handle. Spine problems or joint problems, or, God forbid if You love dogs and I know You do, a tumor, I don't know that I could handle.

Anyway, he got a bath. It was time for his annual bath anyhow; the ecosystem that grows during the fall, winter, and summer in his undercoat has to get evicted yearly to make room for new inhabitants. I'll take him to the vet on Tuesday to have an X-ray and make sure there's nothing screwed up in his lumbar spine.

Much as I hate to say it, I think this might be his last summer. The heat has gotten harder for him to handle as he's gotten older, and now he's a very old dog. His heart was damaged early on by heartworms, so there's that. And now this whole spine/tumor (no, God, please)/seizure thing. . .he's been put down, pushed around, apprehended, and put up wet, and every critter has its limits.

He is, however, the best boy ever. Even if he takes the varnish off the floors because he wants to come in when he's soaking wet. He's a good boy.