Many years ago when I first opened my salon, a young couple brought their Toy Poodle, Spunky in to be groomed. We discussed the style of clip they wanted, and as they were leaving, I placed Spunky in a cage so that I could finish the dog I already had on my table.
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“Twas a Saturday with a full moon expected that evening. Need I say more? Every kennel had an occupant: an incessant, howling, banging resident. Both human and canine customers, wrapped in some mystic force’s embrace, felt compelled to issue impossible or ludicrous requests and behave as if all common sense was lost. It was only 10 a.m., but I had already come to the conclusion that it was going to be a margarita night once I survived this test of moral and mannerly fortitude.