The Return of Supergroomer

The Supergroomer believes that I can lift and move nearly everything I encounter, dogs and furniture especially. She is responsible for my getting stuck on the stairs with a full sized mattress, although I have to say that I could have made it all the way up if the mattress had had a decent handle in a reasonable location.

Since Supergroomer scorns assistance, I have picked up many big dogs without help. I have found that with good form, most dogs can be lifted onto the table or into the tub. I actually tend to lift almost all dogs this way, regardless of their size. Standing perpendicular to the dog, facing its side, I will bend my knees and squat. I reach one arm under the dog’s chest, between the front legs, and place my hand on the shoulder. The other arm reaches under the dog’s abdomen, between the hind legs. I hug the dog to me closely to prevent wiggling and stand up, keeping the dog’s spine level. It is important to bend the knees and not deadlift the dog. It is also vital to avoid twisting and turning. For the dog, a level and close to the body hold will keep them calm and safe.

Beware a panicky dog who still attempts to wiggle and flip around while you are holding them. The torque can cause you to twist your spine. A “helper” dog can also give a little hop, jarring your spine or giving you an accidental headbutt. A very well-behaved dog will often offer to put its front feet up on the table or tub edge. If the dog cooperates and doesn’t change her mind because she thinks it’s funny, you can lift up her back end. Remember to bend your knees.

When I lift or carry a particularly big dog in this way I usually hear a chorus of, “No wonder you have a bad back!” It is true, I do suffer from sciatica and pinched nerves in my shoulder and neck. I would like to point out that the neck and shoulder issues actually come from scissoring and brushing. The sciatica is entirely my son’s fault. I did not develop my back problems until I was a pregnant groomer.

The horrible hormones of pregnancy cause a woman’s joints and ligaments to loosen up and, I suspect, mutate. (I did not enjoy pregnancy, not one little bit.) Loose joints were combined with the lifting, bending, stretching and twisting that normally accompanies grooming, but now occurring with a belly in the way, and the ever increasing weight of my son bouncing happily on my sciatic nerve. One of the most miserable experiences of my pregnancy was not with a large dog, but sitting hunched over my belly trying to groom two tiny little Yorkshire Terriers that I couldn’t quite reach. I ended up with quite a painful back problem that did not abate once my son was born. I tried chiropractic care and it did help somewhat, but I decided to reduce the number of large dogs I was grooming.

On a day when I was running the mobile grooming business and my son was about two years old, I stopped by to have lunch with him at my mother’s house. I bent to pick him up, a little sideways I guess, the way you do when you are going to swing the child up on to your hip, and WHAM! Something snapped in my low back. I actually managed to carefully put my son back down, and then I hit the ground in considerable pain.

Because Supergroomer believes in keeping a stiff upper lip, rub dirt on it, keep the blood flowing, and all that stupid stuff, I finished grooming my scheduled dogs for the day. I’m not sure how, because the mobile vehicle had quite a big step up to get in the back. I went home, took many pills and went to bed. The next day I could barely move. I couldn’t groom for about a week. I could barely do anything for about a week. I couldn’t get in and out of the truck. Going to the bathroom required a serious commitment because it hurt so much to sit down and get up. My husband offered to get barbeque tongs so that I could pull up my pants. I got stuck in our big claw-foot bathtub because I couldn’t make the big step out.

Grooming is very hard on the body and mind. Supergroomer makes it harder. I really have learned from my experiences though I still lift big dogs and my son, who has grown much larger. I listen to my body, and try to keep it strong and fit with yoga, running, and strength training. And I buy a lot of Advil.

Supergroomer

Let me be clear. The Supergroomer is not a classic heroic character. She is usually an antihero, and occasionally a villain. A delusion of heroism that crops up in my mind from time to time, the Supergroomer encourages me to attempt actions that are clearly unwise or beyond my capabilities. She is responsible for most of my physical injuries and definitely for my mental burnout. It is the Supergroomer who says “Yes” when the answer should be “NO WAY”. She can be both the angel and devil on my shoulder, whispering mad ideas mixed with genius so that I cannot tell the difference.

It was the Supergroomer who agreed to groom an enormous Newfoundland on a day when she knew I had no assistant coming in to the shop.

“He is so well behaved,” she said. “You can do it by yourself.”

The dog did have exquisite manners and, like the gentleman he was, heaved himself up and put his front paws on the edge of the raised bathtub. “See! You only have to lift half of him,” the Supergroomer said. With a mighty grunt, like the hammer throwers at the Olympics or that notorious tennis player, I managed to heft the back end of the giant dog up and into the tub. There were lights, purple and red lights, that exploded into my vision along with some serious dizziness and a little disorientation. But he was up there.

I phoned my husband. “What percentage of your body weight are you supposed to be able to lift without killing yourself?” I asked.

“Why? What did you do now?” he said.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just curious.”

Once my breath returned, I bathed the Newf and used the high velocity dryer to blow out most of the moisture in his coat. Then I tried to get him out of the tub. “Down is easier than up,” said Supergroomer. “Gravity, you know.”

The Newfoundland knew about gravity too. He was big enough that he generated his own field. No matter what I tried, I could not get him to put his front legs on the edge of the tub. Because he was raised up, and incredibly heavy, I couldn’t lift him over the edge myself. Then he had enough. He lay down and I was toast. Practically in tears, I phoned my Dad. “Could you please come over and help me lift a dog?”

My folks lived close by, so the Newf hung out in the tub for a short time while we waited for Dad to arrive. “Holy crap!” he cried. “I thought you needed help lifting a dog up! How did you get that thing up there by yourself?”

The two of us wrestled the dog out of the tub, and I saw those fireworks again. Amazingly, my heart did not explode, nor did I get a hernia. But not from lack of trying.

Artwork is trademarked by Chris Cowley, Windchill Studios

Playing Favourites

I have been asked many times which are my favourite dogs to groom. Most of the time the question refers to my breed preference. I have in my career had a chance to groom many purebred and mixed breed dogs, and almost every coat type. I have scissored, plucked, stripped, shaved, clippered, sculpted, thinned, de-bulked, etc. etc. I still haven’t encountered any corded or hairless breeds, but I have a friend who has offered the chance to try her Chinese Crested so I may get there yet.

The question seems simple but has a complex, multi-part answer, dependent on the day and my mood. For example, you would think that all small, smooth-coated breeds would be low effort and easy money, but the thought of a Manchester Terrier or Miniature Pinscher fills me with dread while Pugs and Miniature Smooth Dachshunds are a joy. No offense to any particular breed by the way. My preferences are based purely on my experiences, and yours may have differed completely.

When you factor in that there is not necessarily any correlation between my favourite breeds to groom and my favourite dogs to groom, it becomes very difficult for me to give any kind of straight answer to the question. Over the years I have fallen in love, frequently, deeply and forever. Love, illogical and unconditional, has had nothing to do with my enjoyment of the haircut the dog received but often made those dogs shine in my memory.

The best answer that I can give you is that I like to scissor, and I can fiddle quite happily with a Poodle (especially a Standard) for a considerable time. Curly coated breeds like Poodles, Bichons and their mixes offer a dramatic before and after, and a great deal of satisfaction. It helps that they usually have lovely temperaments, and I have groomed many over the years that I have adored.

However, I remember a Miniature Dachshund named Squirt, and a Yellow Labrador Retriever named Mackenzie who both smiled like you wouldn’t believe, corners of the mouth curling right up in a fabulous grin. I remember two Shih Tzus named Molly, one who rode in a bike basket, topknot streaming in the breeze, the other who refused to pass by the shop door without coming in to say hello. I remember another Shih Tzu named Katie who would rest her chin on my insignificant chest while I put in her pink satin bow. Rookie, a Bouvier mix, the apple of her daddy’s eye. Toby, the enormous Yorkie with the slow kisses. Duchess, Di Di and Dharma. Pixie and Oreo. Susie and Gen Gen. Tramp and Seamus. Nikki and Holly. Kali. Tabitha. Macey. So many more.

I have so many favourites. I fall in love. My heart breaks.

Artwork trademarked by Christopher Cowley, Windchill Studios