'my dawgs are killing me', still

by Simone on December 24, 2010

Well well, don’t we all come out of the wood work for the critters? (It’s sort of like a bad break up or a death in the family. Everyone softens and has soooo much to say.)

Loving and caring for animals is at last vogue. It used to be illegal to have cats or dogs in a salon, but cigarette smoking was AOKAY. Birds were always allowed for some strange reason. Hmm, I wonder what the rule is on snakes, or cows in a Salon?

Thankfully times have changed.

Now we can hold our heads up high when we are out in public wearing a sweater that matches fido’s. I was on an off leash walk w/the beasts in the wilderness recently

and was dog tired of carrying my dog’s jacket, so I decided I would wear it. The colour was a good one for me, but I had trouble with the neck. It said ‘size 1’ in it, and I wear a solid 2, I didn’t think that the extra 100 lbs. I was packing was going to keep me from my goal, but thwart me it did.

So……. I put it on my head and velcro’d the waist under my chin. See? a perfect fit. I knew I could make it work! My hands were free, my head was toasty warm and I was elated by my cleverness. Then it was back to reality as size XS little whitey, look a fancy to a size XXL Brindle.

There was grass flying, and barking and words flung around, and then In the blink of an eye, everything was status quo. Did I make it up?  The owner, I’ll call him Bob of XXL Brindle, was clearly disturbed by my unusual headdress. I had forgotten that I looked rather queer, or, like a queen with a animal print crown on my head complete with the fabric that clings to the face.

Luckily I don’t fluster easily. I let Bob know that I was in the beauty industry and was a fashion trendsetter, I offered Bob the other slightly larger green jacket to wear on his own head. I explained that it might help him feel more secure and that I thought we would make a smart looking couple of pack leaders. We shared a moment, a warm embrace and I wiped a tear from his eye. Then we got ahold of ourselves and went our separate ways. He, to the hospital to perform another apendectomy and me and the French brigade, to the salon to tame the wily frumpasauous.

It’s best for the clients when the frenchies get a pre-salon walk. They lie like stuffed sausages on the floor (or unsuspecting lap) Sometimes they try to entice ‘play’. This might entail bringing a saliva covered furry ferret,

lamb, chicken, rabbit, snake, high heel, duck, penguin or cow and dropping it at (or worse, ON) the feet of the person in waiting, gas will pass and a loud belch will shake the windows and then there might be snuffling, wiggling, or pawing. Sometimes the clever frenchie will toss the toy in the air giving a demonstration of what’s in store for the lucky lucky person they’ve chosen to focus their adoration on.

Mostly though, they just lay quietly and make bufa’s in their sleep

until a dog lover who is not familiar with the saying ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ comes in speaking in high pitched tongues and gets them all riled up again….and on and on it goes. People rushing in, and rushing out, Hair is cut, coloured and curled and all the while the Frenchies, like judges in a beuaty pagent, validate a good ‘do’when they see one. It’s days like these that i am acutely aware that no matter where we go or what we do, or whom we talk to, it all comes back to the follicle.

Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done? 
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.
Thank you kindly for telling your friends about this blog. If you have a pal who needs a chuckle, please pass it on.


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