"It's like sending her off to Auschwitz! To be shaved and showered and gased," grinned her mother.
"You cannot compare having our dog groomed to a concentration camp, Mother!" she shrieked back. "Don't you dare laugh!"
There were squeals from outside where the dog was being washed.
"Sounds comparable," added her brother from the corner of the table.
When the dog came back in, sheered and shivering, friskily running over their tiles, it bounded into her arms.
"Look at the brave survivor!" grinned her brother, "Released and cheerful from her detention. Reunited with her true love!"
"Shut up."
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