Groomer to Groomer

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What a Week...

By Bonnie Wonders-Trent

This past week was certainly full of mishaps at the salon. Talk about “when it rains, it pours” It was more like, “Noah built the ark, and we shall sink it.”

On Tuesday, a lady brought in two Lab mixes and a Pomeranian to be groomed. Why on earth she felt the burning desire to bring all three in at once, I’ll never understand. Personally, I wouldn’t have the death wish to be dragged across a parking lot by two less-than-one-year-old, 70-pound dogs that were totally out of control. Add to that the Pom that was just trying to stay out of the way of the Labs.

You know how when you go down the road and a squirrel comes out of nowhere right into your path? It’s like it’s thinking, “Run straight! No, go left. Fake a right. Spin around in the middle of the lane. Freeze! Go left again. Go!” Splat. Ugh, right under your wheel. Not the best directional decision on the part of the squirrel. Well, that was pretty much how that Pom looked as I watched the foursome come across the lot. The three dogs were all on Flexis and twisted up to no end. The Pom didn’t have a chance. Actually, neither did the owner, as there was suddenly a massive heap of fur right outside my door: three hairy dogs and a lady in a fake fur coat. Oh, it wasn’t pretty. It did look remarkably like that squirrel mishap.

When I opened the door for her, in burst the four of them. The woman let loose of all the Flexis, and the thump that they made when they simultaneously bounced off the floor was loud enough to deafen a goat. The dogs ran from the front of the salon into the middle room and then into the treat room, all the while those Flexis were banging into each doorway as they went like two warthogs run amuck. Not to mention the forgotten Pomeranian who was being drug unmercifully under the belly of one of the bigger dogs.

I all but had to throw myself onto the tangled mess of dogs and leashes in order to stop them. I cornered them all, and the owner came to help. “I don’t know how they got so tangled up,” she said out of breath.

“Maybe you should have only brought them in one at a time,” I offered.

“Oh, no! My gosh, if I don’t take them both at once, the other will tear the inside of my car apart,” she said. “It already happened when I did that at the vet’s,” she added. As I nodded, I was also silently thanking God that I have steel crates in the shop.

That was Tuesday.

On Wednesday, I was bathing a Golden Retriever about halfway through the day. As I reached overhead to get another gallon of shampoo, the entire shelf suddenly came crashing down, and seven jugs of shampoo were airborne. It was as if it were in slow motion. I was trying to catch one or two before they hit the dog or me in the head. Luckily, neither of us got hit, but the mess that ensued was enough to make me cry. When several of the jugs hit the floor or tub or both, the pumps snapped off, and shampoo was running freely all over the floor. There were also two bottles of shampoo that were in clear plastic bottles that had completely shattered.

I looked at the Golden. He was perfectly fine. He just sat there looking at me like, “Hey, lady. Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with it. You’re the idiot who just had to have that ‘handy’ little board over your head.” It took me more than half an hour to get that mess all cleaned up. I went through five rolls of paper towels and I can’t tell you how many mop buckets of water to take care of it. I even had shampoo on the clock. Thank goodness Wednesday finally came to a close.

I spent most of Thursday having to answer the wall phone, as we couldn’t locate the handset for the cordless. Look as I might for that stinkin’ thing, it was just unretrievable. Not under the cages nor under the tub. Not under the big dryers or the counter out front. I looked in the office, the bathroom, the cage room, and the retail rooms. Nowhere was it to be found. We looked on all the shelves and on top of the cabinets. It had vanished.

At the end of the day, I left the salon and headed toward my car. As I walked across the parking lot, I suddenly heard my phone ringing. I stopped dead in my tracks. It rang again, and I looked down at the giant bag of trash that I was dragging behind me to drop off at the dumpster on my way to my car. Yes, I had now found the phone. I opened my car, threw my purse into the front seat, and proceeded to open the contractor-size trash bag. Naturally, that stupid phone couldn’t have possibly been at the top of the bag. No, it had to be almost halfway down as I dug through the ton of wet dog hair and KFC bones from lunch. Friday would be better...

Friday was good... until the mailman showed up with a letter that I had sent and had now been returned to me. Apparently the other mailman that we had on the 14th must have dropped my outgoing letter in the parking lot of a neighboring business. It had snowed quite a bit that week, and the envelope was barely readable. They could, however, read my return address label, and someone kindly dropped it back to the post office. The post office returned it to me. It wasn’t that important. It was just my estimated payment to the IRS for the quarter. It was now the 18th. I kind of missed the 15th deadline. I don’t know the consequences of that one... yet. Hallelujah! It’s the weekend.

It was Saturday, and my husband and I went shopping and for lunch. I was finally going to relax after such a week full of crap. We went for lunch and stopped at the mall. It was turning out to be a really enjoyable day. No bad news, no accidents, nothing to upset my umbrella. We did need to get dog food and horse feed, so we stopped at the store.

Dave picked up a bag of dog food and brought it over to the cart. “That’s not what we always get,” I told him.

“Yes it is,” he told me. (He does usually pick up the dog food.)

“No, I’m sure that’s not it,” I insisted. “Let me look at the ingredients in this other brand,” I told him. I pushed the cart down the aisle and stopped in front of the 40-pound bags of food.

“What are you looking for? We never get bags that big,” Dave said.

“I want to see the ingredients on this one, though,” I told him. “Calm down.” I pulled forward a large bag that was at the upper range of my eye level. We flipped the bag over, and I read the first couple ingredients. Corn was listed at the first one. “Yeah, you’re right,” I told Dave. “I’d never get anything that has corn in it like that. I was thinking the bags were the same color as this one. That must be where I’m confused,” I told him. I flipped the bag back over. I tried to push it fully back onto the stack, but there were too many bags underneath that one, and it was getting stuck on the top of the shelf.

“Here, let me get it for you,” my big, strapping, muscular hunk of a husband said. I stepped back to let him get the bag onto the shelf.

With a mighty push, he got it where it belonged. In that instant, we suddenly heard cans hitting the floor. Lots of cans – it seemed like hundreds of them – falling everywhere in the next aisle. Dave ran down to the end of the aisle and looked into the next one. I knew exactly what had happened at that moment. I remembered seeing a huge display of canned dog food in the next aisle. There was no divider between the shelving units of the aisles, so when he pushed that big bag back on the shelf, it went just a tad too far and hit the backside of the canned display. Like dominos, dog food was falling off the shelves and the display and was rolling everywhere!

I got around the corner just in time to see an employee of the store reaching the display. “Holy heck!” she exclaimed. She looked at us at the same time we looked at her.

“What did you do?” my husband asked her. A final lone can hit the floor at that exact moment.

“I don’t know what happened!” she said, shaking her head. “I think I’ll need a cart for this one, though,” she said, laughing.

“Here, let me help you,” Dave said without admitting any guilt.

“Oh, no. I’ll get it,” she said.

“No, no. Now you let me get it,” the brave man said as he started picking up cans. “I’ll go get a cart, too,” he added.

“It’s okay,” the employee said.

“Oh, please! You let him clean it up. It’s the least he can do,” I added, smiling at my husband as I went to get some horse bedding.

How was YOUR week? ✂