A lesson in dog grooming
Steve and I (and unfortunately, Seth) found out the hard way that using Steve’s clippers to give Seth a hair cut = a disaster.
We have never had a dog that needed real grooming before. The dogs I had growing up, Cracker and Carmel, just needed a good brushing every once in a while, as did my beloved boy Bismarck (incredibly, the 1st anniversary of his passing is coming up this month… I can’t believe it has been a year).
Ryder’s coat is just naturally shiny and groomed all the time (and let’s be honest, she’s incredibly beautiful, if I do say so myself):
She’s a girl, after all. She knows how to take care of herself.
But poor Sethy. Steve and I have just been at a loss over what to do about his big, bushy coat. His hair grows so fast. When we first adopted him last September, we had him groomed and shaved down right away. But he was at the groomers for 7 hours! That seemed excessively long to us, and since that was our first-ever experience with a groomer, we just decided to groom him on our own from then on.
But yeah… that didn’t exactly work out for the best. Sure, his coat would be trimmed, but he wouldn’t look groomed. We tried to buy some “good” clippers at the pet store, but they didn’t work. His hair is so thick. That, and we just have no clue what we’re doing. Yeah, it could have something to do with that.
So we sucked it up and brought him to the groomer again this week. His hair was getting out of control and he was starting to look unkempt. My Sethy, unkempt! So we brought him there and told a little fib; we said that we had to pick him up within 3 hours because we had plans. Nobody puts Sethy in the corner groomer for 7 hours!
When we dropped him off, his look reminded me a bit of a biker dude: a little wild, a little devil-may-care. But also a little cruchy/hippy/freewheeling:
When we picked him up, it was like we were picking up our son from basic training. He looked prim. Fresh. Clean. Noble, even!
A changed man.
The first thing we did was take him and Ryder on a walk to the park… at which time he promptly found a mud puddle in the grass to roll around in. Tongue hanging out, happy as can be, rolling like he just didn’t care.
Ahh, that’s my Sethy. Not so changed, after all. A little freewheeling, a little wild, a little devil-may-care. That’s who he is.
I wouldn’t have him any other way.