we will be back. a lot.
Fifteen minutes ago I was in a small concrete-block room, with a window unit, surrounded by cages. I was on my knees on the floor, bent over something somewhat less than stable. The place was a tiny little dog-groomer's. The less than stable thing was Riley, who very much wanted to properly greet the woman who was trying to trim her nails, and who was also doing the dance of Keeping My Paws Out Of Your Paws. I was helping hold her down.
... where the fuck did you think I was, what is wrong with your head?
Y'all know the hazards of clipping Riley's claws, for me. She's half my weight and twice my strength, and really the only way to do it is for me to flip her on her back and sit on her, which involves a lot of getting kicked. So I phoned up a place where I'd heard they did claw clips for two dollars a pop (TWO. DOLLARS.) and upon learning I needed no appointment, I brought the oaf in.
On our way in another guy was heading out with two dogs. Riley sat for the man, expecting cookies or petting, but only got talked to. I think she was disappointed.
Then it was our turn, and we were led into the back. The woman took Riley's leash and tied it in a very sailorly way (I was impressed) to a grooming table, then turned to me.
"Does she bite?" she asked.
"No, but she'll lick you half to death. I'll get the back and try to hold her down. She's just... wiggly."
And she did lick. She licked the lady's arms, and hands, and the claw-clipper too. So there I was, kneeling on this floor, with my arms wrapped around the back end of my dog and her nub tail wagging ferociously even though it was pressed into my belly.
I, of course, was doing my best Tenth Doctor Babble, which I tend to do around EVERYBODY WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH MY BRAIN. It went like this: "Riley. Please don't fart. I know you're good at it, but NOW IS NOT THE TIME." And then, "You see why this is a two-man procedure?"
The claw-clipping lady said yes, finished with Riley's foot, pushed Riley's tongue-flailing head away from her face, and we turned her around to do the other end.
The back was finished more easily than the front, on account of the only place Riley could lick was my armpit (she did), and I paid up and we headed out. Where Riley nearly pulled me backwards down the three stairs leading into the place. Claw-clipping lady laughed as I flailed out the door.
We also dropped off some boxes of stuff at one of the thrift shops, and the guy there seemed DETERMINED to give me a receipt for tax purposes. I didn't particularly want it, because it sort of defeats the purpose of Giving Stuff Away to Get Something Back, but -- I guess I'm just defective that way.
The point to all this is, I am never clipping my dog's nails again. For two dollars I get HELP. It's so worth it.
... where the fuck did you think I was, what is wrong with your head?
Y'all know the hazards of clipping Riley's claws, for me. She's half my weight and twice my strength, and really the only way to do it is for me to flip her on her back and sit on her, which involves a lot of getting kicked. So I phoned up a place where I'd heard they did claw clips for two dollars a pop (TWO. DOLLARS.) and upon learning I needed no appointment, I brought the oaf in.
On our way in another guy was heading out with two dogs. Riley sat for the man, expecting cookies or petting, but only got talked to. I think she was disappointed.
Then it was our turn, and we were led into the back. The woman took Riley's leash and tied it in a very sailorly way (I was impressed) to a grooming table, then turned to me.
"Does she bite?" she asked.
"No, but she'll lick you half to death. I'll get the back and try to hold her down. She's just... wiggly."
And she did lick. She licked the lady's arms, and hands, and the claw-clipper too. So there I was, kneeling on this floor, with my arms wrapped around the back end of my dog and her nub tail wagging ferociously even though it was pressed into my belly.
I, of course, was doing my best Tenth Doctor Babble, which I tend to do around EVERYBODY WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH MY BRAIN. It went like this: "Riley. Please don't fart. I know you're good at it, but NOW IS NOT THE TIME." And then, "You see why this is a two-man procedure?"
The claw-clipping lady said yes, finished with Riley's foot, pushed Riley's tongue-flailing head away from her face, and we turned her around to do the other end.
The back was finished more easily than the front, on account of the only place Riley could lick was my armpit (she did), and I paid up and we headed out. Where Riley nearly pulled me backwards down the three stairs leading into the place. Claw-clipping lady laughed as I flailed out the door.
We also dropped off some boxes of stuff at one of the thrift shops, and the guy there seemed DETERMINED to give me a receipt for tax purposes. I didn't particularly want it, because it sort of defeats the purpose of Giving Stuff Away to Get Something Back, but -- I guess I'm just defective that way.
The point to all this is, I am never clipping my dog's nails again. For two dollars I get HELP. It's so worth it.