Sunday, March 14, 2010

The Dog Groomer

Finding the right dog groomer has been a trial for me, and for our 13-year old Golden Retriever. The only one I have found that will bathe and trim my little girl so she looks and acts like a normal dog when the process is complete is in Prescott – 100 miles away. I found this groomer when we started traveling north for the summer, stopping in Prescott on our way. After her trip to Yvonne’s, our elder dog would smell so pretty and feel so smooth – just the right way to start our summer journey. But…I’m not going to drive 100 miles when the dog needs a bath.

Once I took her to a pampered pet place not far from my home. Walking into the place, it felt like a palace for a princess. Everything was decorated in pink, rhinestone crowns, and individual little boudoirs with pink puffy pillows. Like the dogs really care what color their bubble bath is going to be. When I picked my little princess up, she was wearing two little pink bows tied with itsy bitsy little rubber bands on tiny little hairs on her ears. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud – and wonder how and why the hell they did that. She’s not a poodle, for God’s sake. I left them on for the next week just to let loose a good chuckle every once in awhile. My pooch – who likes to eat rocks and dig in the garden – was wearing little pink bows. Then the itching started. The poor dog would scratch here, and scratch there. She must have been allergic to the shampoo – or pink princess sparkle – or rubber bands – or maybe the bows.

The most recent journey was to a place with the word “corral” in it. I should have known better. I walked in, and it did indeed look like a corral. There was one short fence separating me from the menagerie of animals wandering around on the other side. The lady who greeted me had several tattoos – the one that was most prominent was the tear below her right eye. She was very nice and helpful, but I still looked at the windows for bars, or a handgun on the shelf. She asked me if I wanted the dog shaved, and I wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. She showed me a card with rectangle drawings of various widths and wanted me to tell her which length I wanted the dog’s hair. I guess I am supposed to envision the flat drawings as hair length. I was at a loss for words. I just said I wanted the dog’s haircut shorter than it was at that moment. When I returned to pick up my dog, I realized my golden retriever had had an out-of-body experience as they replaced her with a shorthaired yellow lab. She had definitely been shaved, from head to toes. All her hair was gone - all her pretty little white “feathers” on her back hips were gone...plucked...shaved...nothing left. In fact, her whole body appeared naked – all except for her tail - which was still shaggy - and the green shamrock bandana. Green bandana?

It’s a good thing dogs aren’t vain and don’t have a clue what they really look like. Just to be on the safe side, however, I have hidden the mirror from her.

So that’s it. It’s back to the back yard romp where I chase my dog around with the clippers and hose spray.

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