web analytics

Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

Shearing the Shaggy Scotties

“Dear Alexandra,

Do your dogs use body doubles on the blog?”

Um, not that I know of.  They may be sunning themselves in Scotland for all I know, but their nose jabs and kisses feel the same.  I am certain these larger-than-life personalities and family members are the same Misha and Grisha I have always known.  Since they’re not doing any dangerous stunts on the blog, such as jumping up to my eyes for a favorite treat, we’re safe to assume that these guys’ photos are the real thing….

The problem is, they’re becoming shaggy.

Just as springtime sheep are sheared, it’s time for Misha and Grisha to get a haircut.  As the temps inch ever higher, my shaggy Scotties grow ever longer in fur/hair/coat and start to pant.

“Turn the airconditioning vents towards them,” I instruct the kids after a romp in the park.  The two terriers have their tongues practically to their knees.  I think.  I’m not sure where their knees are located.

It’s time for a trim.

We generally take the little guys to the groomer in June and in December, if not in March, July, and November, or thereabouts.  They really need a doggy haircut every three or four months.  Or so they say.  Our inability to go to the groomer more frequently has to do with a very busy schedule and the appointment times cutting into our already-overloaded plates.

Once, we called a mobile groomer to come to our home and work out of her van-salon.  After 15 minutes, she returned traumatized Grisha to our doorstep, scratch marks up and down her arms.  She pulled the outdoor electrical plug hookup, and zoomed away.

Misha and Grisha now have a wonderful family friend who does therapeutic grooming, using the clippers on macho Misha and scissors-only on fraidy-cat Grisha who had been mistreated by a groomer once in the past.  By currently feeding him treats during his trim, she has the guy eating out of her hand, and hooked for life.

Misha, the narcissist, loves to look at himself in the mirror, so grooming is generally not a problem.  Generally.  Anytime I have the camera out, he usually throws himself into the picture one way or another, as well.  (Ten points to those who saw him hovering in the background for one of the shoe photos….)  If I ever see him reviewing his changing looks on the computer by night, I will know that the self-love has gone too far.

Grisha, on the other hand, is just happy to be alive.  Mr. Waggy-Tail.

So we hatch our plan to do their trim job in the tub, a sheep-shearing pen of sorts.  Armed with treats and Benedetto’s special scissors, the little guys hop after me right into the empty jacuzzi.  Petya holds Grisha as I work around his neck, his feet, his back and his tail.  This would give him some Scottie definition, leaving the beard and underbelly skirt intact.  (I should note at this point that I have no absolutely no dog-grooming credentials, nor any cosmetology certification.  But hey, I don’t let the cold, hard realities of life stop me when I’m on a mission….)

Then it’s on to Misha, who does not appreciate me trying to hold his paw.  He struggles and strains, attempting to head-butt Petya who is holding him in his lap.  But my strong teenaged son has tennis triceps not to be trifled with.  Eventually Misha grows tired and goes limp in Petya’s arms.  I could have painted his nails purple for all he cared at this point, but instead, I focus my attentions on the puffs of hairs causing his feet to look like curved-up Turkish slippers.

Once done and released, the Scotties race around the house, prancing and showing everyone their new look.  It is not until the next day in the car that I notice Grisha’s neck with a tuft or two of untouched hair.

“Kids, who has the embroidery scissors?” I ask.

Within a minute, I’m trimming again, as Grisha sits on the console like the King of Siam between myself and Benedetto.

“Hey!” my husband says, when he realizes what’s going on.  “Is that dog hair in my coffee?”

Grisha just smiles, catching a glimpse of his glamorous self in the rear view mirror.


Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

10 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar SLB says:

    Very handsome boys you have there! Wouldn’t it be something to hear the tales of adventures from those with the wagging tails? 🙂

    • avatar admin says:

      Hey, thanks for the idea… They have plenty to say, at least to me… I’ll check to see if they’re ready to release these undercover ops to others…. 🙂

  2. avatar Ivanka says:

    I believe you could be tagged as a “Mobile Groomer” now? I wonder if we had that same terrorizing experience because “Elisbieta” has been terrorizing groomers from here to there since her first grooming ever with the “Mobile Groomer”. It might have been that big scary looking van-like thing in our yard that did it for the dogs, but the price of that experience traumatized me enough to finally invest in some “professional grooming clippers”. I still take them a few times a year, but not every month. I do maintenance clipping now and save a bundle of cash that I can spend on therapy for myself, because I might need it with crazy animals and children abounding.

    • avatar admin says:

      Well, Ivanka, with the weather in our northernmost location hovering at 101 today (thankfully, that is not Celsius)… the little guys are headed out for their official grooming later this week. (Everyone remind me to take before & after shots.) If I’M panting and not wearing any fur coat, I figure it’s not nice to let them suffer. I would try some clippers, but Grisha won’t stand for it. He was terrorized before the mobile groomer–she just suffered from his terror. We used to drop the two off at PetDumb and somebody must have done something one time, because Grisha came home shaking and wanting to bite at anything metal. When I tried to trim our human-boys’ hair with electric clippers, Grisha went wild. So now I simply take off major chunks with scissors. Puppy punk rock. The kids thought I intentionally gave him a mohawk the last time: “Cool, Mama! Look how it sticks up!” Wonderful.

      So can we congratulate you, yet? Are you a new “Ukrainian mama”??? 🙂

      • avatar Ivanka says:

        Court is complete! I am “in waiting”. 10 days and we can pick up the official court decree. I guess it is not legal until then.

        • avatar admin says:

          Woo-hoo in advance-! Pahzdrahvlai’yoo-! (“Congrats” from all of us!) Be careful in the high heels….

          • avatar Ivanka says:

            EezVeentye, as I trip and fall into arms of strangers. I had to give them up. I was embarrassing my family (new daughter included). My feet are a mess. Can anyone say pedicure. I am probably too embarrassed to go anywhere here (much less Grevna here than in Amerika), so not sure what to do…trying on shoes would be embarrassing to say the least. I would hate to be impeded on the shoe shopping by the condition of my feet!
            Getting a glimpse into my current state of mind. Scary

          • avatar admin says:

            Say no more–we have all BTDT. Soak zee feet and apply liberal amounts of vaseline. You will be a new woman in no time! 🙂

  3. avatar Ivanka says:

    Can you spell out Vaseline for me in Russian? Shopping is tricky, I am struggling to get vada beiz hasa. Spaceba. And things are packaged quite differently. Yogurt in a bag, mustard in a pouch…who knows what Vaseline will come in?

    • avatar admin says:

      Smart cookie that I am, I don’t know how to type in and/or get the Cyrillic to print out…. The dogs did it once by jumping on the computer. I guess they’re more advanced.

      It sounds just like “vah-zeh-LEEN” = and is written BACELUH. (Well, the “L” looks slightly different, but you get the idea…) Probably yogurt (full-fat) will cure any condition, as well, hah….

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.