whiskey tango mamma

"What was that? Behave myself?"

Jack is presently at the groomer for the next few hours. I was planning on spending some quality time with the little one at the dog park but, as it is still snow-covered, we're huddled together on the couch for warmth.

I adore his groomer but we've only been going there for less than a year and the several techs haven't quite gotten a handle on his personality yet. It is challenging to find a groomer that will not cage a large, boisterous dog - there is one thing that terrifies him, and it is a cage - but he always left his old groomer stressed and anxious. A little Googling revealed some very concerning reviews that confirmed my suspicisions that they were a bunch of meanies, so I switched to this new place. It is a bit of a drive, but they are wonderful. I hope they say the same about us...

Though it looks rather run-down, the new groomer attracts a steady clientale of frou-frou 10lb balls of fluff - and similarly ritzy furmammas - who sit politely for their pawdicures.

Then there is Jack.

He bolted inside the tiny waiting area and promptly jumped up to set his paws on the counter, ready for attention. The owner's tiny school-age daughter came around the side playing business-woman with a mini-notebook. She giggled as Jack snuffled through her hair and called him a "good boy!" Fool. Before I could say, "honey, he will steal your notebook if you don't watch it," he had snatched her little notebook and was waving it in the air, begging her to come chase him. The owner made her way over with his grooming card in hand. (The card lists owner and vet contact info, special needs, etc.) He promply snatched that from her, too, and swallowed it before anyone knew what was happening.

The ladies seated in the waiting area with their perfect pooches in their perfect Gucci collars looked perfectly scandalized. It probably didn't help that Jack nearly knocked over a Fluffykins or two with his Happy Tail. The owner told me to fill out another card while the tech took him back. She got as far as the main grooming floor. I guess he wasn't ready to go to the back washroom - no audience there! - and he threw himself on the ground. The dog knows darn well that no one can move him if he is flush on the ground with all limbs splayed out. The assistant tugged gently on the leash. I know better. "Quit bein' a drama queen, boy!" I yelled over the sound of dryers. More scandalized looks and even a little tsk-tsking from the peanut gallery. The assistant tugged, gently, again and looked at me with puzzlement. "He loves the bath; I just don't understand." I understand. He was showing off - usually there are no other customers waiting. "Look at me! Look at me! Look how naughtly I am!" I ducked into the teeny, tiny grooming area and, in my outdoor voice, ordered him up at which point he lunged into what I call the alligator death roll (start 1:10.) He flips on to his back, flails his limbs, and shows his teeth - I know it is a smile and invitation to rassle - not aggression - but most people don't know that. Meanwhile, his tail is thump-thump-thumping and causing all the fur clippings to fly up in little tornadoes. I sighed and asked for a cup of hard liquor water. The only thing that stops the alligator death roll is a bit of water poured on his head and into his open mouth. That's right, folks. I waterboard my dog. By now, the other techs have put down their tiny scissors to watch, the other customers are shaking their perfectly coiffed heads, and the owner is trying very hard not to laugh.

Finally up, he pulled the poor assistant into the washroom, snatched up a washcloth, and jumped into the tub. I pretended I didn't see any of that and went back to the waiting area to fill out the card. His original owner - my former Roommate - had previously filled it out so I was new to this...

- Name: Jack.
- Breed: BADDOG Lab
- Color: Technically yellow, but so inbred he is white.
- Size: Big.
- Special needs: No cage.
- Vet: I gave contact info but squeezed in "no need to call vet for ingestion of shampoo or standard-size washcloth; he does it all the time."
- Concerns: I checked "no concern" next to "aggression, "bites people," "bites dogs," etc. but paused over "easy." I checked "easy" but with an big bold asterik, filling the backside of the card with notes about the alligator death roll, waterboarding, and paper fetish.
- Then a blank line for temperament. How do I sum Jack up in a one-word line? Technically, owners not allowed to wait for a dog being groomed (as it is easier for the groomers to groom when the dog can't sense the owner in the building), so I hurridly jotted down "a little much" with yet another asterik and scribbled the following into the small remaining space on the back:

"Extremely desirious of attention, very friendly, boisterous, mischevious, playful, smarter than your honor student, shameless flirt. Owner tips well."

That last part was underlined five times.

I handed it over to the owner. She read it and pulled me in for a whisper. "Just so you know, we look forward to Jack all week when you call. We had to pull straws today because everyone wanted to get him." Now, contrary to the above scene, he is fabulous with grooming and vet care. As long as you're focused on him, only him, and ignore everyone else but him, he doesn't care if you cut his nails, draw blood, etc. But I was certain I misheard. "Pardon?" "Oh, we just adore him because he is so much fun. It gets a little boring here and he livens up the place," nodding to the line of glorified Q-tips sitting sweet and pretty on their mothers' laps. "Well, ok," I said. "I'll be back in 3 hours?" "Please," she smiled. "No rush. Take your time!"