Leo’s big outing

It was an early start this morning: Leo had a 9:15 appointment for his annual jabs, and it was my job to get him there (and pay for it all). While I’ve never been a “morning person”, the actual reason I don't like appointments that early is that it means dealing with morning traffic, and it’s impossible to know how heavy it’ll be until I’m in it. On top of that, at this time of year, thick morning fog can be another problem, and it was today.

Leo was actually due for his jabs in February, and they sent me a reminder text. I kept forgetting to deal with it, so they sent another text. I kept forgetting again, mainly because I was thinking about changing vets (the one we’d been seeing left that branch). However, the main problem, as it so often is, was that I only remembered when it was after hours.

Last week, I was sitting at my desk and decided to go the chain’s website, then navigated to the vets at my local branch. I wanted to see if they had any vets at the moment, but noted I could book online. With a shrug and a “why not?”, I set up an account (separate from the retail store one I already have…) and went to book an appointment. They had two available this week: 9am and 9:15am today. I chose the latter, hoping that traffic would be better, with most people who needed to be at work by 9 off the roads.

The traffic was mostly tolerable, it turned out, and were delayed just by two red lights and slow-moving trucks. I was well aware, though, that I could’ve shaved around ten minutes off my trip if the long-promised road connecting our houses directly to the rest of the city was open (still no announcement of an opening date—of course—more than a year after the first already three-years-late date was suggested).

Leo got the American expat vet that one of the kids first saw there after we’d shifted to Hamilton (we hadn’t seen her since; we saw a South African expat in the following years). She was good and nice (which I already knew), and won Leo over with treats. After that, I smiled inwardly when she noted that Leo was 400 grams heavier than last year, so he needs to cut back a bit—like father, like son! Although, I’m carrying around a bit more than an extra 400 grams…

I asked for her advice on cutting his nails (something Nigel flat out refused to do—he was afraid he’d hurt them). She said they’d do them right then, and saw that they were quite long. It seems unlikely that the groomers actually cut his nails last time (November), even though I specifically asked if they did that and was told yes. Two claws on his back paws were so long they were curling back into the pad of his foot—poor guy! And, bad daddy!!! for not noticing. The vet suggested I bring him back in six weeks for another trim (because some were too long to properly cut this time).

Grooming, however, is another issue entirely. It’s still very difficult to get an appointment with a groomer, especially with my trust issues adding another barrier. So, some months ago I started watching YouTube videos by a professional groomer who believes that not only can anyone learn to groom their dog, it’s also a bonding opportunity. Aw!

Around 15 years ago, we had a wheaten terrier named Saibh. We had a wonderful groomer for her, but she left the industry and recommended another lady I took Saibh to. That lady complained about Saibh, said she’d never groom her again unless Saibh was sedated, and demanded more money for having to deal with Saibh. I felt awful—for Saibh, obviously; I couldn’t possibly have cared less about the grumpy groomer’s feelings, and I knew I’d never go back to her.

Saibh had some “quirks”, likely caused by her breeder, who was later prosecuted at least twice for bad practices and banned from breeding dogs (many of his dogs had congenital defects, or severe behavioural issues, and several were put down because of them). Not surprisingly, Nigel and I both thought the guy was contemptible scum, but we felt fortunate that Saibh got away so lightly, with mere quirks.

With few options, I started grooming Saibh. I was getting pretty good at it when Saibh died suddenly of a heart attack. Her own congenital conditions had caught up with her.

Jake came into our family, then Sunny, and while I found some pretty okay groomers, we decided to start grooming them ourselves. Nigel bought several pairs of dog clippers, including some professional grade ones, all of which I still have, of course.

When Leo joined the family, he was just shy of one year old, so when Nigel and I tried to groom him, he was still a puppy. The last time we groomed him, around the time of his second birthday, he bit us both and drew blood (well, a tiny bit…). We never really finished grooming him, and then we ran out of time: That last grooming attempt was around three months before the furbabies' other daddy died.

When Nigel was in his final days, he kept pushing me to get the dogs groomed—and he was doing that, I knew, because he was well aware that he was running out of days. He knew people would come round to the house after he died, and he was embarrassed (For me? Imagining how he’d feel? Both?) that people would see the dogs looking so shaggy. That was, obviously, the absolute, very last thing that could ever be on my mind at the time.

My brother-in-law organised grooming for me one of the times I was visiting Hamilton in the weeks after Nigel died. It was such a small thing, really, but, to me, him doing that and even driving us there and back was a huge act of kindness at a time I needed it most. And, the dogs were awfully untidy.

So here we are in 2023, it’s difficult to get a grooming appointment, and Leo’s fully adult now (me, not so much…). I know he hates being left at a groomers because he wants to stick with me. Over the past several months, I’ve been getting him used to me trimming matted fur with scissors, and also with the clippers )so he can used to the sound). I’m about ready to start, and I hope he is, too.

Leo’s spent much of today sleeping, as dogs often do after getting their jabs. Early this afternoon, with another shrug and “why not?”, I lay down on the bed so he and I could have a nap together (it was an early start this morning, after all). He thought that was a splendid idea. He’s a good boy.