Your moment of zen.
There are few things that are more soothing to me than the smelly and thankless task of grooming the family dog. I cut and/or combed about ten mats out of Walter’s fur, combed him out with this ruthlessly effective thing my mom bought called the Furminator (see above), and pulled a tick off his neck. In the process, I received:
- A bug bite right at the corner of my lips that has swollen to a point where closing my mouth normally feels bizarre. And now I can’t stop poking at it. Excellent.
- Hands that smell like dog.
- All the expected trauma associated with extracting wriggling, swollen little blood-sucking insects from the neck of a warm-blooded mammal.
- An ungrateful pooch who will most likely be visiting my room in about fifteen minutes to see if I’ve left anything tasty in my trash lately (Kleenex, aluminum cans, apple cores, etc etc).
Nonetheless, this is a necessary part of pet ownership–without regular grooming, Walt would have mats all over and shed like a shedding demon. It’s also one of those proprietary things that I like to do as one who at least takes some responsibility for the happiness of this dog.