I had this whole “twist on the Grimm Brothers’ fairytale” thing planned out. Hell, I even wrote it out. Then I read it, I thought, “Wow, that’s not at all good… and not particularly interesting.” … Delete.
Rewrite… same deal. It just wasn’t all that good. So I’ve scrapped that idea and decided to move on with it, because the idea behind it is solid, just not the story-fied version of it.
My fluffy puppy was in need of a haircut. The idea of leaving him with some stranger with a razor and scissors kind of freaked me out. And by kind of, I mean A LOT. It isn’t that I’m really focused on appearance, but the idea of Gwynn getting some awful ridiculous looking hair-do was making me feel a bit queasy, to say the least. Plus, the leaving him with a random stranger part of it.
The first groomer we went to was really REALLY eager and enthusiastic. She didn’t give me much info about what she included in the cut price she gave me, but she listened to what I had in mind and nodded agreeably that she could do it easily. She fed him so many freeze-dried chicken pieces and freeze-dried beef liver pieces that he had an upset stomach later. So – on the plus side, she was really enthusiastic, she liked dogs, and Gwynn was super happy being in her salon. The downside was that her salon had a lot of fur lying around, she had a hacking cough that seemed chronic and ready to shoot her lung across the wall, and I generally didn’t get a great vibe from her. I wasn’t feeling like I could leave my dog with her for a few hours and be entirely comfortable and content in doing so. This was back when winter was just barely unhooking its claws, so I figured, “hey, how about we just don’t get him trimmed,” and moved cheerily along with life.
When it wasn’t rainy and cold, it was just warm enough for me to see that Gwynn wasn’t very comfortable in his fur – he was panting a lot more the few days it was moderately warm, and running around a lot less. So, when we ran into a woman with a golden doodle whose dog clearly had just gotten a haircut, and one that I liked, I got her groomers info and went to check him out. His place was spotless, although I never actually got to see the backroom where he cut the dogs hair. He gave me a detailed list of exactly what he would be doing – down to trimming and cleaning around Gwynn’s bum in order to help keeping him clean. He barely looked at Gwynn, just doing a quick once-over to see what kind of fur he had. He was… efficient. And indifferent. I was thinking fondly of the hacking food-bribery groomer who at least seemed to love dogs. We were still in the middle of an apparent Monsoon season, so I figured, “hey, we’ve still got time… I’ll just sit on this issue for a while. Plus, what if it snows again?”
The next groomer we tried was through a recommendation from our neighbour. Their goldendoodle got shaved down to a buzz-cut for the spring – all even, all over. But that’s what they ask for when they go to the groomers, and that haircut works for them. Their groomer doesn’t have a salon – she works out of her own home. We went to visit her, and she spent a good while talking with me about what I wanted, and what she would do/suggested we should do. She showed me her tools, showed me how much hair Gwynn would be losing, and spent most of the half-hour or so that I was there petting Gwynn. She never got a single treat out, but pet him and talked to him, and checked between his pads, lifting his legs one at a time and generally checking to see how easy he was to handle.
I was sold – I had managed in the past month or so, to meet a groomer who was too enthusiastic, and not professional enough, and a groomer who was too indifferent, and finally found someone who was interested in my dog as a dog, but also interested in making sure he ended up with a great hair cut.
And so, we dropped him off at the groomers – she told me she’d call me in a few hours to pick him up. Had I been on the ball, I’d have done this post during the time he was absent, but I’m still going to leave you to stew in Antici..PATION (picture that being said like Dr. Frankenfurter said it in Rocky Horror), with some pictures of Gwynn BEFORE.
Stay tuned to witness what’s under Cousin It’s hair!
Wednesday night’s bike training: nada… apart from a few hours of walking with dogs. Monsoon season is apparently not over, and if the rain wasn’t enough to convince me I’d rather stay inside, the Thunderbolts and Lightning (Very Very Frightening ME!… Galileo GALILEO Galileo Figaro!) sure convinced me that pedalling on a big metal frame would be an unwise choice.