Now usually my mum trims me herself, makes me stand still while she cuts or sometimes – and I prefer this – works around me with scissors while I’m lying peacefully thinking doggy thoughts.
After the trauma
For a treat (for whom??) she decided to book me in for a professional groom. I won’t mention the name of the salon because I made a bit of a fuss and don’t think they will want me back. I was nervous from the start. Got to the door then realised this could be the vet, lino on the floor an all, funny smells, tables, oh ho; tried to back out but mum was having none of it. She gave her instructions – don’t want him shaved to the skin, want feathers thinned out etc – then LEFT. Left me all on my own with strangers in a strange place. Huh, I’ll show her, I thought!
She comes back after an hour by which time they have me in a see-through bath contraption and, not only are they spraying me warm water, they’re rubbing me all over with girly shampoo. That, after being frightened with a buzzy thing they used to trim me. It was AWFUL and I was whimpering pityfully; really, really traumatised.
My mum looked awfully guilty and said they should towel me off and I would walk home wet cos one thing I’m really scared of is the hairdryer.
She can’t understand why I will splash happily into the sea, a pool on the beach or a muddy puddle but don’t like anybody putting water on me. She should stand in the yard and be hosed down with cold water and see how she likes it! There’s no difference, she says. Huh.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll be going to the poodle parlour any more!
I thought life was bad with our original cat, Sherry, but the new one is ten times worse and twice as heavy. Marley it’s called – a big brute of a silver tabby. My mum was very upset when Sherry died as she’d been rescued from a shelter and with her for 14 years. The Irish cousins loaned one of theirs for a few days then Mum brought home Marley who is six and had a lovely home but too many kids.
He didn’t like me sniffing around his purty fur so I got quite a few whacks and hisses. Who would have thought I’d wish the madam was back!
The sprog is 9 today so we had an alfresco lunch (er, that means outside for those who don’t know French like moi…) with roast pork, Yorkshire puds, crackling and lots of vegetables followed by a piece of cake.
Oh, my mum says it was actually pizza cake. Eh, pizza is tomatoes and stuff, how can it be cake? She made a cake then decorated the top as a pizza? Strange – why couldn’t we just have pizza as that’s the sprog’s favourite food? Favourite apart from cake? Oh, I see.
I got some of leftovers with my dinner and a small piece of cake…sorry, pizza cake!
What a surprise – I’ve been shopping! My mum hardly takes me but because I’m getting better on the lead (Brownie points there!) she said I could go along this morning. I wasn’t terribly impressed when she tied me up outside Tesco while she went in to buy a newspaper but it got better. I selected my own dog biscuits in another shop, hovered on the doorstep of the deli while she got cakes then we went right into a clothes shop where I was a real hit and was petted by the assistant and customers. I gave them paws which really impressed.
They thought I was so well behaved, sitting beside the changing room while my mum tried on some things. (I don’t know why she needs more stuff; she’s got loads of clothes and she could set up in opposition to Boots with all the bathroom gear and make-up she has.)
When we got home we read the paper, did a bit of gardening then sunbathed – look at me drinking up the rays.
Then it got so hot we had to retreat inside – me and my mum, that is.
I’m not the most popular dog in the household today. Collected this morning to go to the beach and had a lovely time. But then something just clicked in my brain and I decided I didn’t want to go home. The rest of the pack, the dog pals I often run with, were in the car and I turned about and returned to the sands. Ructions!
My mum had to be phoned to come coax me off. Of course I didn’t know this and, with more encouragement, I thought better of it before she got there. We met her halfway…..
Have lain low all day since. Will I be forgiven in time to go tomorrow?
After several weeks of training my mum says I’ve hit a wall. WALL, what wall?? I’ve not hit a wall, my nose is perfectly intact!
Oh…I’ve come to a stop and aren’t taking things in any more, going backwards sometimes. I agree with that – my mum is always turning round and taking me back the way we’ve come. Oh, she says that’s the way it’s supposed to be if I don’t do what she wants, walking behind her instead of in front. Well, if she strolls along what’s a highly motivated Springer Spaniel like me going to do other than step up a pace? That’s not how it goes, she tells me.
Don’t want to fall out with her cos she says I’ll get no more beach runs until I behave on the lead. Maybe have to put my thinking cap on and get my brain in gear. Follow her, look at her, walk behind, look at her, she’s the pack leader……