You can call it whatever you want. On Sunday morning, I thought I was getting taken to my gumar, I keep a girlfriend down in Alexandria. What the owners said was groomer. Groomer, gumar, its sounds awfully similar. Perhaps I needed the hair in my ears trimmed. Anyway, I am understandably wound up when they put the leash on me and head out to the car. I am jumping around, pulling on the leash. Generally I am as psyched as a guy who is gonna get some can be. Everything was going well, we were going the right way. There would be no getting lost this time. Then as we get close to our destination, the pull into the turning lane. I know this shopping center, and not for good reasons either. My tail goes down, because I can see the groomer's sign from the road. Shoot, I have been suckered. That’s exactly what I was thinking. I can't believe it, its a beautiful day outside. The kind of day when you don't mind wearing a fur coat, but its not too cold either. GRRRRRRRRRRRR! I could have been home waiting to bark at K & T along with the other neighbors cat. With my morning wasted in a cage waiting to get clipped, I tried to figure out if I knew anyone. The only one who would talk to me was a Westie with tattoos and dreads, not really my kind of bitch, for a number of reasons. There was this white Bolognese puppy there who all the bitches were going nuts over, they loved is accent. He was a bit off his game, he was really worried about getting clipped. I guess where he is from, Italy, getting clipped means something else. Anyway, I decided to nap, until it was my turn to get clipped, bathed and dryed. It isn't my favorite way to blow an afternoon, but at least the groomer didn't have cold hands.
So after 3-4 hours, the owners come back to get me, they are glad to see me, and they have no idea how glad I am to see them. I know that they are always coming back, but there are certain abandonment issues that I am still working through with my therapist. I don't really remember much, but the therapist says its going to take a long time, read as, a lot of money to work through. Whatever, I aught to introduce that guy to the Bolognese's idea of getting clipped. Wrought with guilt my owners stuffed me full of treats when we got home, and I spent the rest of the day popping dog biscuits like amphetamines. Quite frankly, I would have rather just skipped the groomer, gone to my gumar's and come home for a light dinner before bed time. O well next time. I am going to have to figure out the bus schedule and if I wanna get to down to see my gumar. I guess I will have to be content with threesomes with the yorkie sisters. I guess there is something to be said for dating a bitch who is geographically desirable.
Its sure not easy being a 0'9" yorkie poo.