All hail Groomer Time, when all good cockers go off to see the groomer. Marshall sure has been getting rather fuzzy lately, much like his dad. Unlike his dad, he gets to the groomer.
My wife tells me Weird Stuff. No, that's actually a relevant point.
She tells me things like Marshall loves going to the groomer. Always one to suspend disbelief or play along, I ask how she knows this. He tells her (obviously).
Sometimes even my wife can be right. We pulled up to the groomer's place and Marshall got all excited. I have no idea why. He sure as hell doesn't like other dogs and grooming can't be one of the most pleasurable events in his life....
Since I was in charge of transportation today, I had to listen to the Standard Lectures about how much and how to pay for things. And make sure (dammit!) to tip the groomer twenty bucks.
I'm a network security engineer and I don't get twenty dollar tips.
When I questioned this practice, she said it was customary and that less would be an insult.
Not to my wallet, it wouldn't.
And furthermore, don't forget to get him a stuffed toy of some sort. One that he likes. Once again taking the straight man position, I asked how I'd know if he liked the toy or not.
She told me to let him pick one out.
Let the dog pick out a stuffed toy he likes?
He's a dog, you know.
Yes, he walks over and picks out just the right one.
Absolutely, Dear [giving up totally]. That's what I'll do.
I should mention at this point, that this circus isn't entirely about weird people, too fuzzy dogs and just the right stuffed animal, no sir. There's the groomer too.
I don't know where groomers come from but the few I've met have been male and very gay. Oddly (or maybe not), both have asked if I wanted the dog's toenails painted. One suggested bows because `he could rock that look'. Now I don't want to project my masculinity onto my dog but I'm just not going to permit bows. Bows are for Yorkies and other rodent-like breeds.
But I'm going to try to be fair here: WWWD (what would wife do)? I'll do what my wife would do: if Marshall wants nail polish and bows, he can ask me for them.
It's been a while since I took my furry child to the groomer and I almost didn't recognize him. Yes, all the piercings were there, but the bit of nuclear green hair was definitely new.
After Marshall picked out his stuffed toy, we went to the car. By the time I hit the main road, he had discovered the bag, removed the toy, and was proceeding to completely disembowel it on the front seat. There was stuffing everywhere.
While Marshall is religiously into everything, it's interesting to note that if there's something for him, he will discover it in its bag and take it. I've seen him bypass other interesting stuff for his toys or treats. Mind you, if there are no treats for him, he'll take the first thing that's interesting.
Once we're home, Marshall goes back to being the head (scrounge) of the house. The only change is the itching he always gets after a groomer visit. He will leap up and twist himself around then shake his head so violently it appears he will beat himself to death with his own flaps.
Ok, it's kinda funny.
Today I bid a sad farewell to the most fun part of a groomer visit for me: getting home and watching the cat totally flip out, as if we brought home a different dog. He has been known to hide, arch his back, hiss, and behave in other hilarious ways. Tonight, nothing.
There is so little that entertains me; making it sadder when things like this fail to occur.