Numero 56? For the prompt question!
56. “Would you just hold still?” from this post.
A present-day Josh/Donna fic, in the same universe as this story.
April 2021
Donna walks into the house and up the stairs. She’s on a little bit of a time crunch to grab the notes she left behind in the chaos of the morning routine, so she heads straight for the office. “Josh?” she calls, flipping through a stack of papers she was working on a few nights prior.
He doesn’t respond, but she can hear movement down the hallway toward their bedroom. For a moment, she’s torn between the search for the notes and her desire to investigate whatever is going on. The girls are at school, and Josh should be pretending to grade final papers as he procrastinates, so whatever is going on is most certainly abnormal. Almost as soon as she locates the notes, she hears Josh let out a yelp.
“Would you just hold still?”
She grabs the notes and moves quickly down the hall, dropping her purse on the bed before making her way to the bathroom. She finds Josh kneeling beside the tub, a soapy and wet puppy wriggling around inside. The area around the tub is soaking wet, there are two muddy paw prints on one leg of his jeans, and there are towels spread across the floor. “Someone’s had an eventful morning.”
Josh looks over his shoulder at her, flashing her a guilty smile. “I didn’t know you were coming home for lunch.”
“Forgot some notes,” she says, lifting the pad of paper and attempting to maneuver around the mess on the floor. She settles at a spot near the sink, keeping her distance for when the dog inevitably decides to splash or shake. “What happened here?”
“I took some grading to the dog park,” Josh explains. “I got one page done and next thing you know, Sadie did her best pig-at-the-state-fair impression. Don’t worry, I made an appointment to get the car detailed tomorrow.”
Donna presses her lips together in an attempt to avoid laughing out loud, watching as Josh attempts to finish bathing Sadie.
“How come she doesn’t do this with you?” Josh asks, rinsing a little bit of shampoo off of the dog’s back.
“Ah, the age-old question of parenting,” Donna says with a shrug.
“Donna,” Josh whines. “Come on. I get enough of this from you with the human children in this house.”
“Take a page from the Parenting Human Children handbook and bribe her,” Donna says, flipping through her notes.
“Bribe her?”
She looks up from her paper. “Smear some peanut butter on the side of the tub. Make sure you use the one that has DOG written on it, though.”
Josh takes a moment to contemplate this new information before continuing the task of rinsing the dog. “You’re withholding information from me,” he grumbles. “You find my struggles adorable.”
“I certainly won’t find them adorable when I have to wash all these towels tonight,” she teases with a grin. “Besides, as you like to remind me, you have experience in dog ownership. This should be easy for you.”
“Shadow lived to be almost fifteen, for the record. I brought her home in elementary school...”
Donna nods. “Mmhm. And she lived to see you start law school. You’re the dog whisperer.”
“I am,” Josh agrees.
“That’s why she’s being so cooperative,” Donna says, motioning to the mess Josh and Sadie have made.
“You’re hilarious.”
“I have to head back to work. I’ll see you tonight?” She slowly approaches the tub, leaning in to give Josh a quick kiss and moving away just in time to avoid being splashed when Sadie shakes.
“Don’t gloat,” Josh mutters.
“I’m not gloating,” Donna promises. “Helpful hint, though, keep the door shut so she can’t jump out of the tub and rub her face on our comforter. Leah calls it the bathtime zoomies.”
“She’ll do it anyway. Shadow used to do it on our living room rug.”
“Then let her do it on the living room rug. Carpet cleaner’s in the hall closet,” Donna says from the door, shutting it behind her and leaving Josh to fend for himself.
