Sunday, June 06, 2004
They Come in Three Sizes, You Know
People will believe ANYTHING, as long as it comes from someone they perceive should know what they're talking about. A man brought in a 'Maltese' on Saturday who was about three times the accepted size. Valerie said the guy told her that the dog was pure Maltese, had papers and everything, and that they come in three sizes now. Valerie and I laughed about that the rest of the day. The Super-Size Maltese. The person who brought in the jumbo Miniature Schnauzer pup on Friday had said that the breeder was attempting to breed down to 'toy' Schnauzer. Valerie and I laughed about that, too... "ooops! Wrong way!!"
We did have the lovely Bianca (a real true Maltese) and her buddy Rascal (A beautiful Yorkie) come in for their every-two-weeks visit on Saturday. We also had a HUGE Newfie come in. The woman who brought this dog in was in some serious denial. She told Valerie that the dog weighed about 150 pounds, but we both figure he's closer to 200. He may have weighed 150 when he stopped getting taller, but that dog has got to lose some weight. His coat was a mass of matts... we couldn't even tell if he was neutered until the shavedown cleared out some of the packing. And the owner wanted to keep the hair so she could send it away to be carded and woven into something. Whatever! I picked up the hair as Valerie chiselled it off with her clippers. The woman had thought we were going to be able to save the coat, but when Valerie saw how bad he was packed, she called and told her that the dog was getting shaved down, and that Valerie would try to leave half an inch on him all over. Get this - the owners are Dale Earnhardt fans, so they *had* to get a black dog so they could name him after Earnhardt. How about getting one that you're willing to take care of, people? Having a dog like a Newfoundland means that you're going to have to brush it sometimes. This dog had only been to a groomer once, a year ago. And from the way his ears were welded to his neck by matts, he hadn't got brushed since then either. Poor dog was just a mess. Armpits all matted up (doesn't sound bad? Think about someone pulling on YOUR armpit hair 24/7 for a year), one giant matt between the back legs, etc.
Valerie chastised me for leaving out the most important thing about Friday's grooming. The Cockapoo from Friday - I posted about him - put up a huge fight on the table, and managed to get his head out of the grooming loop. Reflexively, I made a grab at his head, to try to catch him. Valerie yelled at me "Don't reach for that dog!!" or something similar. Seems that grabbing for an escaped dog like that is a recipe for a nasty bite, and Valerie has seen it happen. Today, she explained what needs to happen if a dog escapes. You let it go. It's in a closed in area, right? Where can it go? You let it wander around, and you let it calm down, which it will. THEN you approach it and catch it. It's a reflex, though, but one I can unlearn. MUST unlearn. Just like you don't grab for a knife you've dropped, or an iron you've knocked off the ironing board. Reflex says Catch It! But brain has to weigh the risk of injury against just bending over and picking it up. NOW it's reflex to make sure my feet are safe from the knife when it hits the floor, and I've got to get to that point with escaped dogs too. Valerie's been grooming for almost 36 years, and has never been bit. Ever. So when she talks about safety, I listen!
I told my friend Lori to use some psychology on her dog Becket. Told her to call him upstairs from time to time, and tell him to get in the tub. Then give him a treat and let him out. Also wouldn't hurt to turn the water on, let it run for a moment, then give him a treat, turn off the water, and let him out. That way he'll never know when it's going to be bathtime, and the command "Get In The Tub!" will more likely mean something fun than ewwwww! If he becomes reliable enough, Lori should be able to tell him to get in the tub from anywhere in the house and have him trot upstairs and jump in. That could come in handy if she needs him out of the way in a hurry!
We did have the lovely Bianca (a real true Maltese) and her buddy Rascal (A beautiful Yorkie) come in for their every-two-weeks visit on Saturday. We also had a HUGE Newfie come in. The woman who brought this dog in was in some serious denial. She told Valerie that the dog weighed about 150 pounds, but we both figure he's closer to 200. He may have weighed 150 when he stopped getting taller, but that dog has got to lose some weight. His coat was a mass of matts... we couldn't even tell if he was neutered until the shavedown cleared out some of the packing. And the owner wanted to keep the hair so she could send it away to be carded and woven into something. Whatever! I picked up the hair as Valerie chiselled it off with her clippers. The woman had thought we were going to be able to save the coat, but when Valerie saw how bad he was packed, she called and told her that the dog was getting shaved down, and that Valerie would try to leave half an inch on him all over. Get this - the owners are Dale Earnhardt fans, so they *had* to get a black dog so they could name him after Earnhardt. How about getting one that you're willing to take care of, people? Having a dog like a Newfoundland means that you're going to have to brush it sometimes. This dog had only been to a groomer once, a year ago. And from the way his ears were welded to his neck by matts, he hadn't got brushed since then either. Poor dog was just a mess. Armpits all matted up (doesn't sound bad? Think about someone pulling on YOUR armpit hair 24/7 for a year), one giant matt between the back legs, etc.
Valerie chastised me for leaving out the most important thing about Friday's grooming. The Cockapoo from Friday - I posted about him - put up a huge fight on the table, and managed to get his head out of the grooming loop. Reflexively, I made a grab at his head, to try to catch him. Valerie yelled at me "Don't reach for that dog!!" or something similar. Seems that grabbing for an escaped dog like that is a recipe for a nasty bite, and Valerie has seen it happen. Today, she explained what needs to happen if a dog escapes. You let it go. It's in a closed in area, right? Where can it go? You let it wander around, and you let it calm down, which it will. THEN you approach it and catch it. It's a reflex, though, but one I can unlearn. MUST unlearn. Just like you don't grab for a knife you've dropped, or an iron you've knocked off the ironing board. Reflex says Catch It! But brain has to weigh the risk of injury against just bending over and picking it up. NOW it's reflex to make sure my feet are safe from the knife when it hits the floor, and I've got to get to that point with escaped dogs too. Valerie's been grooming for almost 36 years, and has never been bit. Ever. So when she talks about safety, I listen!
I told my friend Lori to use some psychology on her dog Becket. Told her to call him upstairs from time to time, and tell him to get in the tub. Then give him a treat and let him out. Also wouldn't hurt to turn the water on, let it run for a moment, then give him a treat, turn off the water, and let him out. That way he'll never know when it's going to be bathtime, and the command "Get In The Tub!" will more likely mean something fun than ewwwww! If he becomes reliable enough, Lori should be able to tell him to get in the tub from anywhere in the house and have him trot upstairs and jump in. That could come in handy if she needs him out of the way in a hurry!
