Towards the end of the first coat (around dinner time), she decided that she wanted to help. And by help, what I actually mean is accidentally letting the dog in the room and then pushing her against a wall of wet paint to try and get her back out of the room, amidst mine and her mother's shrieks of outrage.
I'm standing on a ladder with a roller, mom is hunched over trim on the other side of the room, and pooch face (a rotti blue heeler cross) is stuck against the wall next to the door, wagging her nub of a tail, while my niece holds her against said wall and cries because the dog has now ruined everything and I am yelling.
Mom and I are far more concerned with the purple paint on the dog than the black hair stuck in the paint on the wall. We go on the balcony with one dog, struggle to drag the (well-behaved) dog into the house, all the while trying to explain to the blubbering eleven year old what we mean when we ask for "a bucket of warm water with a washcloth".
Short story made even shorter:
It was a great photo op and the paint came off the dog with relative ease. By the time we got it straightened out, the hair stuck to the wall had started to dry, so that took significantly more elbow grease to remove, but we got that done too.
|Dog or oddly striped zebra?|