Well, yesterday I didn't get a chance to write as I was just too pooped. I woke up yesterday wondering if the day would give me anything to write about. I guess with a job as a dog groomer that needn't be a worry of mine! There will always be something to write about. Whether or not it is of interest to anyone other than a groomer would be debatable, but at least there will always be SOMETHING for me to put words to.

The first half of the day went uneventfully enough. I am switching my standard poodle from an all beef diet to an all fish one. With out a lot of preamble about the whys and wherefores of that, suffice it to say that a beef allergy has been suspected and I am trying to rule things out and cure her of her chronic itchiness. Thursday was the first day for the switch. Now my dog is not particularly finicky. But I now have learned that she is VERY much a creature of habit. Usually I feed her in her kennel so to contain any mess she might make. I started kennel-feeding her as a way to get her to associate her kennel with good things and treat her separation anxiety. It has worked, she no longer cries and whines when being kenneled and the habit just kind of stuck. Well. . . With now feeding her whole, raw, stinky fish, I did NOT want to feed her in the confines of a kennel where she would be free to roll around on fish scales and Gods know what other detritus that may be left from her meal. I am already bathing this dog once a week--I don't have time for daily poodle baths! So I decide to feed her on the back porch. Thursday I let her out to go potty first thing in the morning as per usual. But instead of letting her in and serving her breakfast in bed, I left her out and brought her bowl full of fish outside to her. She looked at me as if to say "Um. . . Thanks, but you DO realize you're supposed to feed me in my kennel. Have you suddenly forgot that??" I left her out there for about 20 minutes and she completely snubbed the fish. Not cool. So yesterday morning I figured we would just try again. Luckily either her super smart quick to learn poodle brain power kicked in or she was too hungry to care where she ate and she ate both fish proffered up to her. Scales were strewn from railing to railing. That settled I was then ready to begin my grooming day. . . 

The morning went just fine. I had all good dogs and got to lunch on time. Then came Chewy. Now, to look at Chewy you would *think* he was a full-blooded pomeranian. But you would be wrong. Chewbaca is in fact a pomamonkeyroo. This is a rare cross between a pomeranian, a howler monkey, and a kangaroo. A very interesting combination to be sure. Pretty rare too. I frequently run across breeds mixed with either the howler monkey, or the kangaroo, but it's not often you see a mix of both. Chewy is most decidedly both. In comes the cute little black and tan ball of fur, I can hear his Mom scolding him as she comes in ("Chewy, just GET IN here!") and in bounds Chewy. And bound he did. This dog came in bouncing on the end of his flexi lead, not walking, literally BOUNDING, jumps up to 4' in the air if they were an inch. 

"Yeah, good luck. He's been bouncing off the walls for me all day." Says his weary Mom. Indeed.

So I go over what is expected with the grooming today, and take Chewy back into the bathing room. I can hardly grasp him to lift him into the tub for his jumping. He's one of those dogs that as soon as he feels the pressure of your fingers on his belly it lights an ignition switch and, <SPOING!> up he leaps. But after a few false starts I got him safely secured in the tub. Huh. Safely? I suppose that is a relative term. Yes, he was perfectly safe, secured to the wall as he was with the bathing tether. But was *I* safe from his abuses? Sigh. Now I have been grooming this dog since he was a baby. I have always treated him with understanding, compassion and kindness. I have never once tried to drown him. Cross my heart, really I haven't! But in the fevered little brain of a pomamonkeyroo, just because someone hasn't tried to drown you YET doesn't mean they might not try to SOMEDAY. . . These are the times I fervently pray to have the gift of animal communication. Only then could I be understood when I say, 

"Now look, you little monkey! If you would just hold still and let me hold your face out of the water you wouldn't get sprayed up the nose! Well. That was real smooth. Are you happy now? You just jumped right into the spray and got a nose full of water. Are you OK? OK, you're fine. Now just relax. . . NO! Darn it would you just HOLD STILL???" All the while darling little Chewy is leaping and bounding, bouncing off the wall and fending off my attempts at trying to prevent him from getting water up his nose and in his ears by the logical method of grasping my hands and arms 'monkey style' with his dagger-like little claws. I'm not sure how, but I manged to come away only slightly scathed by his antics. Good thing I have quick reflexes!

HV dryer. Because, you see, even though some pomamonkeyroos greatly enjoy hanging their heads out the windows of cars moving at 55mph, a gentle blast of warm air to dry them after the bath is akin to a death-ray. Oh no! Not warm air! It is just too traumatic! He spins and twirls like a whirling dervish doing his best to run in a circle away from the air. Yeah. You're guess is as good as mine on why that one is so upsetting. But eventually by me completely not reacting to his hysterics, he eventually calms down and decides that I just *may* not be trying to kill him. This time. The drying gets finished and he is perfectly calm for the brushing, trimming and the rest. One more dog in the day and then I am done. 

Chewy--the little pomamonkeyroo. Looks can be deceiving. Doesn't he look just like a pomeranian?

So I bet you didn't know that groomers could add lion-taming and alligator wrestling to their resumes? Well, it's just all in a typical day of grooming! Hey, at least I didn't get pooped on this time!

I thought for sure this morning when I saw little Bella on the books first thing that it was going to be a repeat of last time's pooping in continuum through the groom. Luckily Bella's Mom is courteous and took to heart the talk we had last time of making SURE Bella goes "#2" before bringing her into the shop. So this morning I dodged that bullet. I was really clipping along pretty good today. I groomed a cocker, a terrier mix, a pekingese/daschund mix, a maltese and a schnauzer all before noon. I then just had one more dog to come in. A rather large terrier mix that lives outdoors and is always filthy. Everyone else had gone home and I was checking my e-mail as I waited for him. And waited. And waited. He ended up being a no-show (That's really hard on the pay check!) so instead I did a bit of cleaning in the shop. It REALLY needs it! I think maybe if I get home early enough from the grocery store tomorrow I may clean up a bit more. The little bit I did made me feel a lot better. I love a clean environment I just HATE to do the cleaning. I really wish I could afford to have someone come and clean not only my shop for me but my pig sty of a house as well! But on a groomer's salary (especially when there's those no-shows!) it's all just a pipe dream! But I wouldn't trade what I do for a million dollars, pomamonkeyroos, pooping cockers, and all. I have said that even if I won the lottery I would still always groom! I just can't ever picture myself doing anything else!

Well, it's getting late, these kids are getting restless and crabby, so I best sign off of here and wait until there are more 'tails' to tell. . .

My first post!

OK, so I don't know you, and you don't know me. A first blog post should set the stage for those to come, many include introductions to the author. Well, I hate writing bios, I never know what to say about myself. How do you compress all of your pertinent thoughts and personality into a few lines? I figure if you stick around and read my posts you will come to know all you need to know (and maybe some stuff you really didn't need to know) about me. So I'll just say my name is Meg and I am a mother of 3 and a Dog Groomer. Scratch that. I am not 'just' a Dog Groomer. I live and breathe dog grooming. Anyone that knows me can tell you that I can link anything back to my job as a dog groomer in some way. But you will learn this.

So, what to write about for my first post? I'll just write about my day, treat this sort of like a diary. So here goes:

Today was a mobile day for me. I am still new at it and still have a few hiccups to go through. Today my Onan generator actually decided to work so I didn't have to bother with plugging in shoreline, YAY! That thrilled me to no end, let me tell you! I'm not exactly sure what did it, whether it was the warmer temperature today, or if me and my husband inadvertently got something right when we were trying to bungle along to try and get it running again. Change of propane, oil change, and spark plug change and now it is working fine. But we'll see how it does on another cold day. . . :/

Well, as I was doing my morning inspection of the rig and discovered the genset actually ran I said a little prayer of thanks to the Grooming Gods. "They DO love me!" LOL! But alas, the Grooming Gods were just setting me up for a cosmic joke. I had 3 stops, 5 dogs. The first one I was a tad bit late to, but only by 7 minutes. (Yes, 7 minutes exactly). That groom went easily enough. A little Shih-tzu/Westie mix. Somehow, though I was ending up a little more behind by the time I got to my next appointment. (Even still only about 10 minutes). That stop was little Dixie, a cute-as-a-button black and white shih-tzu. I groom her in front of her Daddy's work--Jone's furniture, where Dixie goes to work with him. That groom was uneventful as well.

My last (and most challenging) stop was back in Bennettsville. I was running out of gas so had to fuel up and get a tea to drink and a bite to eat for lunch because with 3 guard clip shelties at the next stop I knew I would be there for awhile. So, with all the stopping and minor set-backs I ended up arriving about 30min late. :P I hoped to make up the time by bathing all three shelties together. So off I go . . .

It took me about an hour and a LOT of elbow grease to just get those three bathed! I left two to air dry a bit in the tub and began HVing the third. The humidity was HIGH so it took about a half hour to dry just her! Then I brushed her out, combed through her coat, popped my guard on the clippers and commenced to clipping--NOT! The blade just would NOT cut the hair. Okaaaay. . . so I popped another size blade on under the comb to try that. Nothing. Is it the comb? Switch combs. Nope. Try just the blade by itself on the inner thigh. Nope. WTH? I then inspect my equipment closely and notice that with the exception of the #30 blade the clipper is not even moving my blades. Oh, and even though it is moving the #30 won't cut. I figure then it must be the drive. Great. Now I have 3 guard clip shelties and no clipper to clip them. What's a girl to do??

"Oh, Honey. . . " ;) I called my husband to beg him to bring me a spare set of clippers from my shop. Because of COURSE I have not thought ahead to bring spares of anything with me! That would make life FAR too easy on me and I can't have that. . . I live to be challenged! Ha! So he promises to bring me my spare set. However, he is going to an appointment and can't get them to me quickly. . .

This is where I strategize. What to do. I have one clean, dry, ready to be clipped dog on the table and 2 clean ready to be dryed dogs in the tub. Now, you would *think* the easiest way to do this would be just start drying the other two dogs while I wait. However, you fail to remember that I am in a mobile rig. Space is at a premium and I have NO WHERE but the tub or floor to put the clean dry dog while she waits for the clippers. She is dry so going in the tub next to a wet dog is out. She is clean so going on the hair-encrusted damp floor is out. Hmmm. I can't just sit and twiddle my thumbs until my husband gets to me. SO. . . I opt to HAND SCISSOR the whole sheltie!

Wow! Do I now have a new appreciation for the groomers of yore before clippers and guard combs were invented! I managed to do a not too shabby job fairly quickly, but I was SO glad to see my husband pull up mid-way through me drying the second sheltie!



So, did the Grooming Gods play a joke at my expense today, or did they teach me a lesson about what this groomer is really made of? ;)

This is Kaylee, the totally hand-scissored sheltie after I finished with her today! :)