Simba got groomed on Thursday night. This might not sound like a big deal, but I was quite distressed. When we took him to the groomers two times ago, he got cut by the scissors. The cut went through his skin and his subcutaneous fat (which is only a couple of millimeters thick). We could see his muscle through a thin layer of fascia. He had to get the wound stapled shut. Needless to say, we did not go back to that groomer. He went to the groomer again in December. This time we decided to take him to the groomer at the vet. We chose this option because we didn't know where to take him and we figured that, at the very least, if they cut him they would pay to fix him (unlike when I had to pay $150 after his previous grooming experience). Simba had been out of sorts because he had spent over 3 weeks away from our house at grandma and grandpa's while I was on bed rest. After that, a teeny tiny baby had claimed space on his turf and taken away much of the attention previously paid to him. We thought that having a new haircut would make him feel better, but we were wrong. The groomer asked that we bring him in at 7:00 am. She also decided that she would cut his hair last. We didn't get to pick him up until 5:00 pm. 10 hours is a long time to be in a cage. He came home more depressed than he had been before his trip to the groomer.
On top of my guilt over his last two trips to the groomer, I have felt guilty about ignoring Simba since Gwen was born. I think he has a touch of poodle depression. When I dropped him off at Petsmart (there was no way I was going to take him back to the groomer at the vet and make him stay in a cage for 10 hours), he put his tail down and gave me a look like I was betraying his fragile trust. He had been so excited to go for a ride in the car before he realized the final destination. This was especially difficult for his poodle psyche because the baby was with us in the car, and, while I left him at the groomer, she got to go home with me. Because of the crushing guilt, I walked out of the grooming salon and went straight to the squeaky toy aisle. I followed that up with a trip to the doggy treat aisle. (I am convinced that the reason that Petsmart hosts a grooming salon and veterinary clinic is so that guilt purchases, like this, can be made). I walked out of Petsmart with a moose squeaky toy and a canister of "cheese puff" dog treats.
I was glad for my purchases when I arrived back at the groomer and Simba was yelping as they plucked his ears. I was even more thankful when they showed me where they cut him with the clippers. He was so happy to get in the car and escape the torture that he completely ignored the dog treats and toy on the way home. When we stepped into the house, he ate his treat and started to destroy his new toy.
Keith noticed the canister of new treats while I was in the living room playing with Simba. "These treats look like cheesy puffs."
"I know. I bought them because Simba likes when you feed him cheese puffs. I was halfway tempted to taste one to see if they really taste like cheese puffs."
"I just did. They aren't very good." I can't say I was shocked that my husband ate a dog treat just because it looked like a cheese puff. He buys the 2 foot tall "barrels" of cheese puffs from Sam's club and eats them in 1-2 weeks.
The next day I noticed a plate in our refrigerator with about a quarter of a cup of peanut butter smeared on it. Keith was at work, so I had to wait until that night to find out what it was for.
"Honey, why is there a plate of peanut butter in the refrigerator?"
"I couldn't find any snacks that I wanted so I thought I would just eat peanut butter." This isn't surprising. Since we are trying to sell our house, I have been doing my best to clean out the pantry and all of the cupboards, so we are fairly low on our snack supply. I did wonder, however, why Keith didn't: A.) just eat a spoonful of peanut butter (he said he was hungrier than that), or B.) put the peanut butter on something (for example: a piece of bread, which we have).
Jokingly I said, "You could have just had some doggy cheesy puffs."
"I did eat a couple before I decided on the peanut butter. I still don't think they taste very good."
Yes. This is the man I chose to marry.
On top of my guilt over his last two trips to the groomer, I have felt guilty about ignoring Simba since Gwen was born. I think he has a touch of poodle depression. When I dropped him off at Petsmart (there was no way I was going to take him back to the groomer at the vet and make him stay in a cage for 10 hours), he put his tail down and gave me a look like I was betraying his fragile trust. He had been so excited to go for a ride in the car before he realized the final destination. This was especially difficult for his poodle psyche because the baby was with us in the car, and, while I left him at the groomer, she got to go home with me. Because of the crushing guilt, I walked out of the grooming salon and went straight to the squeaky toy aisle. I followed that up with a trip to the doggy treat aisle. (I am convinced that the reason that Petsmart hosts a grooming salon and veterinary clinic is so that guilt purchases, like this, can be made). I walked out of Petsmart with a moose squeaky toy and a canister of "cheese puff" dog treats.
I was glad for my purchases when I arrived back at the groomer and Simba was yelping as they plucked his ears. I was even more thankful when they showed me where they cut him with the clippers. He was so happy to get in the car and escape the torture that he completely ignored the dog treats and toy on the way home. When we stepped into the house, he ate his treat and started to destroy his new toy.
Keith noticed the canister of new treats while I was in the living room playing with Simba. "These treats look like cheesy puffs."
"I know. I bought them because Simba likes when you feed him cheese puffs. I was halfway tempted to taste one to see if they really taste like cheese puffs."
"I just did. They aren't very good." I can't say I was shocked that my husband ate a dog treat just because it looked like a cheese puff. He buys the 2 foot tall "barrels" of cheese puffs from Sam's club and eats them in 1-2 weeks.
The next day I noticed a plate in our refrigerator with about a quarter of a cup of peanut butter smeared on it. Keith was at work, so I had to wait until that night to find out what it was for.
"Honey, why is there a plate of peanut butter in the refrigerator?"
"I couldn't find any snacks that I wanted so I thought I would just eat peanut butter." This isn't surprising. Since we are trying to sell our house, I have been doing my best to clean out the pantry and all of the cupboards, so we are fairly low on our snack supply. I did wonder, however, why Keith didn't: A.) just eat a spoonful of peanut butter (he said he was hungrier than that), or B.) put the peanut butter on something (for example: a piece of bread, which we have).
Jokingly I said, "You could have just had some doggy cheesy puffs."
"I did eat a couple before I decided on the peanut butter. I still don't think they taste very good."
Yes. This is the man I chose to marry.
I am not shocked at all. I love it!
ReplyDeleteWhile I find it endearing, I did ask him to stop eating the dog treats.
ReplyDelete