Monday 8 October 2007

Why I should be reported to the Animal Welfare

I am a dog person. Ask any of my friends and they'll confirm that otherwise very sensible (erm - almost sensible) Foreigner will morph into bouncy babbly 3-year old after spotting a random manky pooch on the street.

One of them even have had a nerve to compare me to the spaniel which I wasn't too impressed at the time ("Spaniels are not dignified!!"). Given the breeds tendencies to gluttony and knack for weepy-eyed blackmail sessions to get their way; she was probably right though.

I have walked the same route near the village for over 2 years. Couldn't name you many people I've met on the road. I could, however, give you the full description, life story and name of every dog living around there. Except two grumpy collies who still live in hope that one day I'll whimper and run instead shouting at them in most disrespectful manner. So they could finally attack Mutt The Mad who'd happily oblige them with fair fight.

They don't know what they're up against though. I have nerves of steel as far as growling dogs are concerned and Mutt the Mad is blessed with jaws deserving a movie. "The Hound of Foreigner by Default". Or something more catchy maybe.

Anyway, considering my pet name for Mutt the Mad tends to be The Firstborn you would think I am a caring and responsible owner. Or bonkers. Or both.

About 6-7 weeks ago I noticed that Mutts abundant coat was starting to get a bit more abundant than necessary.

"Should take him to the groomer soon," I mentioned passingly.

4 weeks ago:
"He really needs to be trimmed, I'll call the groomer next week."

3 weeks ago I got a number for newly opened grooming business from Mrs Nononsense, The Ultimate Other Halfs Mom.

2 weeks ago:
"He's so matted now it's kinda embarrassing to show him to the groomer..."

1 week ago:
"Euchhh .... It's not really nice to touch him any more, is it?!"

This Sunday I armed myself with detangle comb, scissors and hefty bag of dog treats; wrestled Mutt The Mad onto floor and addressed the matted coat issue with fatalistic gloom. Mutt was even gloomier since grooming is something he views as totally unnecessary evil, right next to bathing.

Two and half hours later we emerged from family room utterly knackered, stiff, immensely relieved and mostly dematted. The last was true at least about Mutt because I spent ten minutes trying to brush hairs off my clothes and eventually just gave up.

This week I really need to make a groomer appointment for Mutt.

Circle of life, eh?

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Heh heh. I totally sympathise being the owner of a big black dog meself.

He gets groomed when he starts resembling a gallon of expired guinness. Even the cleanup needs a cleanup!

Foreigner by Default said...

Gallon of expired Guinness!!! :D

The mental picture is priceless, thank you!

Wouldn't swap me Mutt for anything though.

Rosie said...

i've two mutts at home and the terrier saves me the trouble; she grooms the retriever by pulling her hair out in clumps with her teeth when she's bored.

your story reminds me more of how i groom myself before i go for a bikini wax so's not to frighten the beautician.

Anonymous said...

being a dog lover me self..I had a golden lab who rode with me in my truck (Lorry) all over North America.. that pooch had over a million miles on her..I still miss her now and again.. despite the fact that at the slightest drop in paying attention to her she would plunge into water..I let her go for a run in the Arizona desert and she came back all wet that dog could find water in the Sahara...

 
template by suckmylolly.com