how to bathe a dog in winter

Step one: get or already own a dog.

Step two: take dog for a run in a nearby playground so he will be sufficiently worn out

Step three: persuade dog to get into the bathtub

This is where you begin to improvise. My chocolate lab loves water, except when it's coming out of a faucet. At this point, I have to pull up my jeans to my knees, throw on a t-shirt I hate, and get into the bathtub with the aforementioned horse, I mean dog.
Sam also hates dog shampoo. I don't really blame him, as I remember having my hair washed as a young child and the whole experience was rather unpleasant. This was also during the time where I would wear shorts under my first-grade uniform so I could play on the monkey bars without scandalizing the nuns or my mother. But Sam likes to roll around in things that smell, specifically piles of rotting leaves that have undoubtedly been rolled in by other dogs. And this means that, in the middle of winter, he needs a bath. So, back to the instruction manual.

Step four: once you have persuaded your horse, antelope, or chocolate lab to get into the bathtub, get him as wet as possible, using extra mardi gras cups to douse him. If you're lucky, he'll just sit still and think he's getting a massage. There is, of course, the danger of the aardvark (or dog) shaking and covering you and your bathroom with suds.

Step five: after the dog has been shampooed, enlist the help of a housemate, husband, or circus trainer to help you dry off said dog. The inevitable shaking will ensue, but your dog will be clean. Cleaning the dog is not nearly as gross as cleaning your bathroom afterwards, but I digress. This is where your (or my, as the case may be) husband comes in. Seeing that you are not only soaked and covered in dog hair but also holding your dog and trying to clean his ears, the husband wonderfully offers to clean up the bathtub and mop the bathroom floor.
The husband had, of course, offered several times to help with the dog bathing, but there is only room in a bathtub for one person and one dog, especially when the dog is nearly half the size of the human. And for the record, there is nothing alluring about a woman in jeans and a t-shirt, soaking wet, holding her soaking wet dog INSIDE in the middle of winter.
Summertime, a nice Hefeweizen in hand, sunshine and burgers on the grill, different story.

Should you require further instruction on how to bathe your hippopotamus, armoire, or other large creature with legs and a tail, feel free to contact the author, once she has taken a shower herself.