Sven the Cairn Terrier got a free haircut today.
The haircut required minimal effort on my part. Specifically, I had to hold him still while my rear-end was parked in a lawn chair.
It started yesterday. We took him for a walk to check on the progress of our new home.
(This is what it looked like, by the way.)
Sven isn't walked regularly. I completely realize this is neglectful pet owner behavior and appropriately hang my head in shame.
::::Hangs head in shame::::
When he IS walked, sometimes the "walking" motion causes him to crap a lot. He must have been really backed up because in one block, he pooped five times.
Sven is also not regularly groomed. It has been six months since he has gotten his hair cut.
To say he was shaggy was a huge understatement.
As you can imagine, he was a sad sight when we encountered our Hungarian friend at the end of the block.
She owns a West Highland Terrier has an affinity to Cairns ~ kissing cousins of the Westies.
He managed to look particularly pathetic, giving her a doleful look as he squatted for the umpteenth time in front of her and dribbled a nugget of diarrhea down his ungroomed, hairy butt.
We promptly received a call the next morning.
"I have beeeen theenking about Zvehhhn," said the voice on the other end. "He haz to be zo hot and uncomfortable. Pleeez let me come over and groom him."
Normally, we would say no but she seemed to put a lot of thought into it. She had discussed the potential of highly offending us with her neighbor from Boston.
Meg, the Bostonian, is a bad ass and steps in front of speeding "cahs" and smacks the trunks. She screams, "What's wrong with you!? Slow down, there ah kids playing out he-ahh,"
She is also apparently better versed in potentially offensive requests. Some individuals might take offense in one offering to come groom their slob of a dog.
I didn't mind at all. I realize when I need help.
She had a plan as she usually seems to. She washes her Westie's face daily, so I am sure Sven's state of affairs was acutely disturbing to her.
She told me she would be at our house in fifteen minutes. There was a knock at our door in seven.
She worked diligently, explaining to me that "his skkeeen, iz zo zensitive. Zee? Iz peenk," and that it was good that she was taking care of the mats on his hair. She spent a lot of time on his ass. "Oooo, gooood! I can zee his reectum now," she said with glee.
Sven emerged a new dog. Literally. He appears to be a third of his pre-groomed size. I was able to bath him easily in the boys' bathroom (after I cleaned the hair from the clogged drain because the fourteen year old boy decided to shave his upper thighs. And why the hell would he not? It is SUCH a normal thing to do. Really.)
Sven slept the entire day, wiped out from the anxiety of the hour and a half marathon amateur grooming experience as well as the subsequent bath.
Maggie could hardly contain herself when she woke up from her nap and was greeted by the clipped, clean Sven.
She squealed and followed him around for a good thirty minutes, exclaiming, pointing and patting. I am not sure what she was saying, but I'm sure it was positive.
It put her in a good mood for the rest of the day which, in turn, made my day easier. There was no malcontent-type behavior and she was unusually agreeable.
Sven's free haircut was a win in so many ways.
Thanks, Erika. :)