The evidence suggests I have been subjected to what humans call “hygiene,” though the logic remains opaque. One moment I was conducting important research into the botanical mysteries beneath the chokecherry trees. The next, I was lifted bodily and introduced to warm water and lavender-scented betrayal.

The transformation is immediate and inexplicable. Where once I moved with the measured dignity befitting a literary basset, I now find myself careening through rooms at velocities that defy both physics and propriety. The hardwood floors provide no friction. The rugs offer brief sanctuary before launching me toward the next corridor.

Gus observes from the sofa with what can only be described as anthropological interest. I am a specimen now, a case study in post-ablution hysteria. The donut bed has become a launching pad. The studio doorway, a slalom gate.

This will pass, I suspect, though the timeline remains unclear. Until then, I am a streak of damp fur and inexplicable momentum, ricocheting through rooms like some sort of caffeinated pinball.

The indignity is complete.

#pawscarwilde #zoomies