Saturday I had a dog to groom. Toby is a 400 year old Poodle. A great little guy. He lost the use of his right, front leg in an unfortunate mishap, but he’s still a charmer. He gets around pretty good, and is still happy as can be.
But this dog was a train-wreck. Between missing his last groom (due to said unfortunate mishap), shaving for surgery, wearing a bald spot on his good shoulder getting up and down, and the general tangles a dog gets, we were in for some work.
“Stand up on the table for this hair-cut business? No, I don’t think so.”
He didn’t either. He lay…(laid? lied?) He stretched out full length on his side and let me work that way. Brush out one side. Flip him like a pancake. Brush out the other side. Flip him back. Pre-cut the first side. Flip him like a pancake. Pre-cut the other side. To the bath!
He had to stand for the bath. I held up his front, and he propped up the back. It worked nicely.
Back to the table for the dry and finish cut. Stretched out full length, of course. He looked pretty darned good, too.
Sunday Katcha got his first haircut. Nestled safely in his Mother’s arms. I come at him with my trimmers a-blazing. He wasn’t real happy about the whole thing.
Cut it all to length, then go back for the layering. Like a professional. He was cheesed, but we got it done. I’ve seen worse.
Next week I’ve got another groom. Toby’s sister (not a real sib, they were both adopted). And Soupo needs a haircut. And both my dogs need a bath and a trim. The Little Woman (only 4 inches tall!) is making noises about needing her hair cut too. But I’m not allowed to touch her 'do.
As long as this is, let’s make it longer.
I was going to start another thread today. “Separated At Birth: Ringo Star, Fidel Castro and Yasser Arafat”. Looking for good pictures got to be too much like work, so I gave up.
-Rue.