Jan Nieman - Going to the Dogs: Confessions of a Mobile Pet Groomer

Going to the Dogs

Confessions of a Mobile Pet Groomer

Confessions of a Mobile Pet Groomer

Jan Nieman

New Chapter Publisher

GOING TO THE DOGS
Confessions of a Mobile Pet Groomer

ISBN 978-0-984-1745-7-7
Copyright 2010 by Jan Nieman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by New Chapter Publisher

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Suite 300

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Cover design and layout by Shaw Creative
Illustrations by Hyunhee Park

Heres to pet lovers
whose actions speak louder than words
when they rescue animals, provide homes,
and donate time and money for the care
of Gods special creatures.

Dogs are really people with short legs in fur coats.

Author unknown

There are no ordinary cats.

Colette

When a dog wags her tail and barks at the same time, how do you know which end to believe?

Anonymous

I must confess I never would have dreamed that, while trudging through my previous careers, my final one would be as a mobile pet groomer. Im not even sure I had ever heard the phrase. However, hidden among my five children was a doggie-phile daughter who led me at age forty-five into the thrilling world of dog grooming.

After returning from her first year in college, Kris announced, Mom and Dad, I dont know what I really want to do. So-o-o, what would you think about sending me to dog grooming school?

Huh? My husband Niel and I were unaware there was such a thing as a school for grooming dogs, but we added up the numbers. With three other children in college, if Kris chose a semester learning how to clean up pets rather than four expensive years in higher education, the winner was?

Meanwhile, my job at the Social Security Administration wasnt panning out. Dealing with upper management personalities at one end, while supervising employees at the other, was turning me into an indecisive administrator empathizing with everyones viewpoints. I took advantage of every sick day and planned exotic vacations before actually earning the leave. Another indication I was spiraling downward was the disturbing discovery of clumps of hair on my pillow and in my brush. Was I losing my mind along with my hair?

Clearly, it was time to move on, and Kris new career sounded quite attractive. I, too, could play with dogs all day. There was even an outside chance that lifting and brushing them would tighten up those flappy wings that were beginning to swing from my upper arms. And tucked in the back of my mind lurked the possibility that my plump, matronly body might morph back into its long-gone seventeen-year-old figure. OK, I said it was an outside chance.

Little did I know that following in my daughters footsteps and embarking on my new career would be like Alice in Wonderland plunging down the rabbit hole and into the wild and new-fangled world of mobile pet grooming. Sure, caring for pets was as old as Eve, after her fall in the Garden of Eden, pulling the burrs out of a lambs coat. But in the 1980s my career on wheels was so innovative that, when I mentioned it, most people said, What?

Along the way I was privileged to meet some unique dogs, wonderfully talented groomers and generous owners. But, I also had my share of schizophrenic pets, eccentric clients and incompetent groomers, not to mention trying to herd a fleet of undependable vans.

At times, I felt I was a character in a Stephen King horror novel or involved in a newspaper account on alcoholics and druggies. I could have written Willie Nelsons On the Road Again or taught a course called 100 Ways to Restore Your Vehicle with Duct Tape. But my story is an actual true confessions yarn that includes incriminating episodes unrevealed until now. In the end I wouldnt have given up a moment (oops, well, maybe a few) of the twenty-one years I spent Going to the Dogs.

When I suggested to my spouse Niel that I might be changing careers (again), he dropped the remains of his half-eaten corned beef sandwich. Choking on the bite still in his mouth, he said, Youre going to do what, Jan?

I fluttered my lashes, turned up the corners of my mouth and said, Dog grooming school! Im going to pull my savings out of the Civil Service Retirement program and enroll in dog grooming school, just like Kris.

After doubling up with laughter, he noticed I wasnt joining in his amusement. He scratched his chin, and in a resigned whisper said, Yeah, go ahead. I think you can do it. Youve done everything else.

Was that a vote of confidence or something else? Was my long-suffering spouse referring to my seven year itch when I hop-scotched from one career to another? Perhaps my loss of hair from the stress of my current job spurred his approval, or it just may have been the willy-nilly decisions we habitually leaped into (there were those five children, you know, and we werent even Catholicjust careless Lutherans).

Lifelong friend Lois, who could finish off a pound of Godiva chocolates and never gain an ounce, reacted in the same manner. Youre switching jobs again and going to do what? followed by, What the heck is a mobile pet groomer?

You know, I drive around town going from dog to dog in one of those converted vans with bathtubs and hair dryers, just like a little grooming salon.

Between bites of candy, Lois said, Oh? and changed the subject.

Serious-minded Son Number One, Mark, phoned from college and, making an obvious effort to joke, said, Say, Mom, does that really pay well?

Hearing the underlying panic in his voice that his last semesters tuition might be in jeopardy, I was about to console him when he added, Wont that be kind of heavy work for someone your age?

No longer concerned with soothing his fears, I retorted, Excuse me! Im only forty-five, Son. My muscles havent atrophied quite yet. Besides, if I kept my nice secure government job, you might be putting me in a mental hospital, and who would pay your college costs then? Huh, huh?

My seventy-year-old mom, always cautious, was the last to shoot an arrow into my high spirits. She frowned and said, You spent eighteen years in college while raising five children and youre throwing all that education away on what?

I attempted to have a conversation with God about whether dog grooming was really in the picture, but He wasnt plugging in. Possibly, even He was stunned by my dubious future career path and struck voiceless. But I felt I needed to rush this decision-making process along before I was reduced to purchasing a wig.

In retrospect, I should have asked myself those questions my inter-generational support groups were asking, but I chose to dismiss their concerns. Plus, in my haste to scramble into another career, I overlooked a second clue to which I ought to have paid more attention.

When Kris graduated she worked for the only mobile pet grooming company in the area. Why only one? Similar to thriving furniture stores locating their businesses within walking distance of each other, Baltimore should have had more than one mobile pet grooming firm.