I follow my human everywhere.

This is not clingy behavior. This is supervision.

If my human walks to the kitchen, I inspect the kitchen. If my human walks to the living room, I inspect the living room. If my human walks three feet across the hallway for no clear reason, I must investigate immediately.

So when my human walked into the bathroom, I followed.

Standard procedure.

Then the door shut.

That was unusual.

Then the water turned on.

Uh oh.

At that moment, I realized I had made a terrible mistake.

This was not a routine bathroom inspection. This was not a quick visit. This was not a harmless tile-sniffing opportunity.

This was bath time.

I looked at my human with the face of a dog who had trusted too much and questioned too little.

There was no escape. There was only water.

Soon I was standing in the tub, soaked, betrayed, and being called a “good boy” by the very person responsible for the crisis.

Afterward, I was wrapped in a towel like a damp burrito. My hair pointed in every direction. My dignity was nowhere to be found.

My human said I smelled wonderful.

I said nothing.

But I want the record to show: I followed protocol.

The bathroom was the trap.