It really isn't amputation. First of all, amputation would take a lot longer. This is a five minute gig at worst. Seriously. By the time I get back from paying up front, Charlie's toenails are trimmed (ground, actually, but that sounds so much more brutal, don't you think?) and he's ready to go.
I make a day of it--it's like a field trip really. We go for a nice walk outside around the pet store; Charlie sniffs up all the latest gossip. We go in where he visits the parakeets and the guinea pigs and checks out all the latest in pet apparel and doggy toys. And after the deed is done, he gets a treat and another walk. All he has to do is spend five minutes with a nice groomer and leave a small sample of his toenails. So why the face? Why the tail tuck? Why the earth shaking tremors?
After I retrieve him, I apologize profusely to the poor groomers. "I'm so sorry!" I tell them. "I've worked with him on this since puppyhood. I've done everything the vet says to do, but still he behaves like this."
"Like what?" They ask, cocking their little heads beagle style. "He's fine. Squirmy, but not nearly the worst we've had." They hand me back my little Shakespeare who is back to whimpering and quivering, looking as if he's just been told he'll never walk again.
Little faker.I stare him down, unyielding. He blinks, working up a tear, and just like that I'm a goner.
"You want a treat buddy? Here's a treat! What a good, brave boy you are!"
He takes his treat, nods to the audience, and prances away without so much as an acceptance speech. Ingrate.
Aileen Mitchell Lawrimore is a mother x 3, wife x 28 (years not men), minister, speaker, writer, retreat leader, and lover of beagles and books. She has a lot to say.
RIP Charlie Beagle
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