Updated: May 17
My beautiful Red Husky, Sundance, will probably never speak to me again -- especially if he looks in the mirror. So, Sundance, please don't.
Poor puppy. Well, he's not exactly a puppy. He's a 12-7ear-old 97-lb. -- yes, he's fat, no I can't find his ribs -- very long-haired dog, whose reddish blonde and white coat shimmers in the sunlight.
But the coronavirus has been playing hell with Sundance because he hasn't been able to go to the groomer, and was really stinking up the place. Not sure if it was doggie B-O or what, but with his thick double coat of fur and the weather getting warm -- 80 degrees today -- he sweats a lot, I guess.
Anyway, he was richly odiferous.
So, I decided to take matters into my own hands, literally. Wearing our trusty coronavirus face masks, Jackie and I went to Pet Smart where we purchased nearly $100 worth of supplies to do our own grooming job on Sundance. Those supplies include electric clippers -- I bought the one-speed kind because it was the cheapest. Can you believe they actually sell doggie electric clippers for like $200! I spent $35.
So this afternoon, I took him out into the back yard, where he unsuspectingly thought we were going to play. But, instead, I taught him a new command: "Up!" It is very difficult to clipper the stomach of a fat hairy dog that is laying in thick grass.
After about an hour of clipper-ing this poor creature, doing my best not to skin him alive, I had a completely full grocery bag of Sundance's hair, and he had a new "do." Well, if he looks in the mirror, he will tell you it's not a "do" at all. It's a "don't."
After his bout with the clippers, during which he squealed a few times when I got too close to certain sensitive parts in his hind quarters, it was time for his bath. I had no idea how that would go, but I would soon find out.
Surprisingly, he stood pretty still when I hosed him down with the garden hose on a nice soft spray, the one I use for watering my petunias. And, he seemed to enjoy it when I dumped the shampoo on his back and worked it in with the special rubber scrubber that I bought -- you know, the kind that fits your hand with a little strap on top. He actually stood pretty still while I did that, until I got to his behind. Then, he just moved sideways in a big circle trying to get away from that brush.
"Stay away from my stuff!" he said to me with his big brown eyes.
Then it was time to rinse that soap out of his coat, so I turned on the hose again. By now, the water was a bit colder and he started to howl. And howl. And howl.
"What the f**k are you doing?" he howled at me. "That's cold!"
Well, he didn't actually say it, but that's what his howls meant. Sundance did not like that cold water at all.
So, to punish me, he stood smack dab in front of me and gave with the biggest doggie shake you've ever seen. Pretty much drenched me.
Well, not to be deterred, I toweled him off and turned on my trusty hair dryer -- yes, folks, I still have enough hair to use a hair dryer -- and began blowing it on Sundance. I thought he'd jump around when I did that, but again I was surprised. He stood quietly, seemingly enjoying the sensation.
So, then I got the clippers out and began the final touchup. I used the attachment to prevent me from skinning him, but it kept falling off, so I went back to the straight clippers.
Relieved, he ran to the house and hid under the table, where he remained until Jackie and I finished dinner.
Then, he remembered that he's a dog, and started begging for some chicken.
Now, I look at him with pride. He is clean. He does not stink. And he has only a few ripples in his coat and a couple of notches where he got hacked because he moved.
Petsmart, eat your heart out. I have my own clippers now, and if I need to earn some extra money, I'm gonna start grooming dogs.