Spa Day

This is me right before I get dropped off at the Doggie Spa. Don't let the yawn fool you. I am not a Spa kind of dog. It makes me very nervous and in doggie language, a yawn means "nervous." In this picture I am walking to the Spa with Momma G and Monty (you'll see his before picture in a moment). We stopped on the bluff to snap these photos and while I wanted to trust that we were just capturing a moment on a windy fall day, I sensed we were headed to THE SPA.

Don't get me wrong. There are some things I love about the Spa. There's Lillianna, who owns it, and her brother Claudio who usually caters to my needs. There's Tikka, their little dog, and there is the smell of every treat a dog could possibly love. But there's also the bathtub, the blow dryer, the nail trimmers, the combs, and the most dreaded event of all, the expressing of my anal glands.

I shall spare you the details.

Here is Monty's before picture...

Like any good "before" picture, he looks disshevelled, but he is not the least bit nervous. He loves Spa days and wags his tail as if someone is about to offer him a steak for a treat. The only thing that makes Spa Day bearable for me, is going with Monty. He calms me down. He reassures me that the clippers and the soap and the pinch of my anal glands is really an enjoyable experience.

I know he's lying, but he's my best friend and he's just trying to make the experience as positive as it can be and so I forgive him the deceit.

And when it's all over, when the trimming and the snipping and the combing is complete, we look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself!