CONTENT WARNING: Animal Injury (Results of a careless grooming job)
 

We had a horrific experience the first time we took our pup to a groomer in a pet store franchise. He’s admittedly a bit of a sensitive soul anyway and doesn’t travel well in cars, so when I collected him and he cried in the car home, I didn’t initially think anything of it, especially since they had admitted to slightly grazing one of his ears. (He’s a floppy-eared breed.)

We got home, and he immediately ran to his crate and would not come out. He even growled at us when we tried to coax him. That was not like my boy at all.

After we eventually persuaded him to come out, I looked him over, and he was covered in razor burn, grazes, and some actual cuts. The “graze” on his ear? An actual notch taken out of it. His privates were also grazed and bleeding. It took weeks for him to recover because he kept reopening the cuts.

I phoned and gave the store manager h*** over this and also reported them to their head office. After providing them photos, I was refunded the cost of the groom and offered vouchers for free cuts, but I told them that they were having a laugh if they thought I’d bring him back to them ever again.

I work for a pet groomer. I take a call from a customer.

Customer: “How much for a bath and nails?”

Me: “What kind of dog is it?”

Customer: “I don’t know what he is now, but when he grows up, he’s going to be a black lab.”

Uh… okay. Maybe just a weird choice of words?

Me: “How old is he?”

Customer: “Three months.”

I’m thinking that’s maybe twenty pounds absolute maximum, so I give her the price and schedule her to bring him in that afternoon. She does so and introduces me to her dog.

Me: “Ma’am… uh… that’s not a black lab.”

Customer: “Well, no… not now, but he’s going to be a black lab.”

Dear readers, this lady has bought in a frickin’ POMERANIAN.

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is a Pomeranian.”

Customer: “Well, I know he’s going to be a black lab because I have papers at home.”

I pulled up pictures of labs and poms on the computer, and I still think she believes he’s going to be a black lab.

A while ago, I had a coworker who was not a bad person by any means but didn’t seem to be raised with any critical thinking skills and tended to rub a lot of our other coworkers the wrong way because of it.

She had been wanting to lose some weight and got the idea that going vegan was some sort of great weight-loss trick. (It’s not.) She was trying to figure out how to go about it, so I figured I’d give her some of the basics since I often baked vegan things to share at work.

Me: “So, basically, vegetarian is no meat, and vegan is nothing that comes from an animal.”

Coworker: *Frowning in intense thought* “But are eggs okay?”

Me: “For vegetarians, but not for vegans, because they come from an animal.”

Repeat several other similar questions, ending with a real gem:

Coworker: “So, is leather okay?”

Me: *Internally facepalming* “No, because leather comes from an animal.”

Folks, this person came from an avid hunting family and should have known very well that leather is made from animal hides.

A few months later, we had a similar conversation with me trying to explain transgender people and brain chemistry and such. I don’t know if any of it stuck, but I do hope she’s doing well wherever she is now and that our talks may have made some difference.

Related:
She’ll Probably Run Into This Problem Vegan And Again, Part 2
She’ll Probably Run Into This Problem Vegan And Again

I took my dog to the groomer at a pet supply store. We arrived ten minutes early, and they couldn’t take him yet.

That was okay because my poor old man has separation anxiety and has unfortunately never been socialized around other dogs, so he was shaking like a leaf and whimpering. To calm him down somewhat, I decided I’d take him around the store and let him explore all the stuff they had for sale.

He mostly ignored all the toys and the treats, but when we came to the fish department, he just became fascinated as h*** with the fish. We spent the ten minutes watching the fish swim around, and he calmed right down enough that there were no issues taking him into the groomer.

Related:
It Takes A Dog (Or Three) To Help A Dog

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Neglect (Happy Ending!)

I’ve just clocked in as a groomer at an independent pet store. I look at my schedule for the day and see that all of my appointments have been scrubbed and my manager has just written, “SEE ME, EMERGENCY,” in big letters. Colour me intrigued but also concerned.

I walk across the building to my manager’s office and find her consoling a woman around my age — mid-twenties. There’s a husky frantically trying to lick her face, but the dog yelps every time it moves. It’s climbed into its owner’s lap. I can see from across the room that the poor thing is covered in matted fur, which has tangled so badly near its legs that it can’t stand or move without pulling at the skin and causing pain. The poor dog is also filthy, and someone has clearly tried to shave or chop off some of the matting and nicked the dog several times. The vet we usually get out for sedation and such is standing there, as bewildered as I am.

Manager: “Oh, good, here’s [My Name]! Sweetheart, I told you I would find you the very best to help Nymeria, and she’s it. If anyone can help her, it’s [My Name], okay? And [Vet] is here to have a look at the cuts. They don’t look too bad to me, but we’ll get it sorted out, okay?” 

Dog Owner: *Still crying and hiccuping* “I h-h-had to move here for my new j-j-job, and I left her with my brother. My h-h-house wasn’t ready, and she’d have been miserable in a flat. I s-s-sent him the money to take her to the groomer, but he never took her, and it’s been six months! The airport p-p-people said she cried the whole flight—”

She’s cut off by the dog yelping because her leg slid off the owner’s lap, which causes the owner to start sobbing even louder. My heart breaks; this poor girl clearly loves her dog. I can hear the vet muttering under his breath something unkind about the brother.

Me: “Okay. Deep breaths, everyone! Right. Tears aren’t helping, and they’re upsetting Nymeria. We can fix this. Could you introduce me?”

I was introduced to Nymeria who, to her credit, despite her pain, only gave me about thirty seconds of the husky side-eye before she realized I had dehydrated chicken livers in my pocket. After that, I think she would have gone home with me.

The vet checked the nicks out and found nothing but some surface scratches. There was one particularly deep one near her rear end that he popped some antiseptic on, and then he gave us the go-ahead.

He asked if she usually needed sedation for grooming. By then, my manager had gotten hold of the customer’s old groomer, who was LIVID at the brother. When Nymeria didn’t come in on schedule, she assumed the owner had figured out the housing situation quicker than she expected and had already brought her to live in our town. She gave me some tips for Nymeria — not a biter but tries to escape when you clip her paws, does fine with a sprayer but tries to eat shampoo, and not bothered by a blow dryer but LOVES to sing. She’d been grooming Nymeria since she was a puppy and said she was very loved, well-trained, and all round the goodest girl. She did thankfully warn me that Nymeria was not a typical husky; I couldn’t really tell through all the dirt and matting, but she’s wooly coated, which added an extra layer of complication.

Nymeria let me carry her to the bathtub, happy as could be, inspecting my ear for any hidden treats. It took me seven hours to painstakingly wash, brush, trim, and dry her, but she was a trooper. When I finally had her legs unmatted and she stood up without pain for the first time, she spun in circles for ten minutes and ran around the room like a wind-up toy to get a few months’ worth of zoomies out all at once.

She needed a more extensive haircut than I would have typically given a double-coated dog, but I’m confident that she’ll recover. She went home feeling like a whole new dog with a very grateful owner, who booked a standing appointment every three weeks for the rest of the year on the spot.

I still hope her brother steps on a Lego, though.

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