decodancer
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2014
- Messages
- 564
- Reaction score
- 1
"Just a bath and a blow job today, he doesn't need a haircut" I try hard not to giggle as I take Bentley from his elderly owner. It's not the strangest request I've ever had. " I want him to look just like this picture" is far more common. I look at the Poodle mixed with something staring up at me. His left ear is matted to his cheek. He is missing a huge chunk of hair on his back where his owner no doubt tried to "help" me by removing a large wad of chewing gum he rolled in. The picture on the other hand is of an adorable pup with 3 inches of hair that looks like a stuffed animal. You can't make a silk purse out of a sows ear. It's an old saying but still rings true. I am not a magician, I'm a dog groomer.
Since I was old enough to understand that people had to work for a living I knew what I was going to be when I grew up. I was going to be an artist. I drew monkeys and horses. Every paper I turned in had doodles around the perimeter of the page. I won school contests, I even got accepted to an art school. So how on earth did I end up covered in dog hair?
I was about 12 years old when I got my first Poodle. I wanted a dog, any dog. My Mother finally agreed with the stipulation that it had to be a small dog and I would have to earn half of the money to pay for it. I mowed lawns for the neighbors. I help my Mom clean the law office where she worked. I raised $25, an enormous amount of money to a kid back in the early 70s. My parents added their share and I started looking for my very own dog. In the paper that week was a litter of Miniature Poodles. I didn't have any preference for the breed at that time but I wasn't waiting another minute to find my new friend. We came home with a wiggly little ball of fluff, complete with registration papers. I named him Bobo and the romance begun.
Kathy's Silver Beaux was his official title. Like most people I thought Poodles were French and had fancy haircuts and did tricks in the circus. Bobo became the local run with the kids, swim in the ditch, happy go lucky mop of grey hair. He snuggled up next to me every night and I told him all my secrets. Life was good but Beaux was dirty. Mom called a dog groomer and a woman showed up in a van with all the tools needed to make my dog look like a champion. I chose the traditional Continental clip with the shaved rear end and pompoms on all four ankles. He looked ridiculous and the neighborhood kids made fun of him. Lesson one, choose a pattern that's flattering to the dog. A dog with short legs and a long body does not look good in a show clip. Lesson two, hair grows back. Your mistakes will correct themselves in six to eight weeks of time. Bobo got a cute little puppy cut on his next grooming and forgave me for his embarrassment.
I spent a few weeks every summer visiting my Grandparents in south Florida. My Grandma and I would walk to the nearby beach almost every day. On the way home we would stop at the local Publix to get food for dinner. In the same plaza was a dog grooming shop. We always stopped by for a visit. I loved seeing the freshly groomed pups with their bows and painted toenails. The place was as messy as my own bedroom and as noisy as a stadium on game day but I loved the chaos. Little did I know that this would become my life.
Since I was old enough to understand that people had to work for a living I knew what I was going to be when I grew up. I was going to be an artist. I drew monkeys and horses. Every paper I turned in had doodles around the perimeter of the page. I won school contests, I even got accepted to an art school. So how on earth did I end up covered in dog hair?
I was about 12 years old when I got my first Poodle. I wanted a dog, any dog. My Mother finally agreed with the stipulation that it had to be a small dog and I would have to earn half of the money to pay for it. I mowed lawns for the neighbors. I help my Mom clean the law office where she worked. I raised $25, an enormous amount of money to a kid back in the early 70s. My parents added their share and I started looking for my very own dog. In the paper that week was a litter of Miniature Poodles. I didn't have any preference for the breed at that time but I wasn't waiting another minute to find my new friend. We came home with a wiggly little ball of fluff, complete with registration papers. I named him Bobo and the romance begun.
Kathy's Silver Beaux was his official title. Like most people I thought Poodles were French and had fancy haircuts and did tricks in the circus. Bobo became the local run with the kids, swim in the ditch, happy go lucky mop of grey hair. He snuggled up next to me every night and I told him all my secrets. Life was good but Beaux was dirty. Mom called a dog groomer and a woman showed up in a van with all the tools needed to make my dog look like a champion. I chose the traditional Continental clip with the shaved rear end and pompoms on all four ankles. He looked ridiculous and the neighborhood kids made fun of him. Lesson one, choose a pattern that's flattering to the dog. A dog with short legs and a long body does not look good in a show clip. Lesson two, hair grows back. Your mistakes will correct themselves in six to eight weeks of time. Bobo got a cute little puppy cut on his next grooming and forgave me for his embarrassment.
I spent a few weeks every summer visiting my Grandparents in south Florida. My Grandma and I would walk to the nearby beach almost every day. On the way home we would stop at the local Publix to get food for dinner. In the same plaza was a dog grooming shop. We always stopped by for a visit. I loved seeing the freshly groomed pups with their bows and painted toenails. The place was as messy as my own bedroom and as noisy as a stadium on game day but I loved the chaos. Little did I know that this would become my life.
