The Dog That Would Not Be Groomed

Heed my true tale of canine terror, dear reader, because it could happen to YOU.

Take Mr. Loomis. Cute lil' guy, right? WRONG! Beneath that seemingly cute and friendly-looking exterior lurks the son of Satan himself.

Oh sure, he's sweet to us, his owners, but Mr. Loomis has the ability to strike fear and anxiety into the hearts of pet groomers everywhere, reducing grown professionals to tears of trauma.

We have three dogs in our "pack," and naturally, the one with the fastest growing hair is Mr. Loomis, who's in need of at least monthly haircuts. However, try telling that to the dog. He absolutely hates having hair trimmed off his face and will let the groomers know it.

The first time we recognized the problem is when a new groomer called us and said, "Uh, yeah, we're having difficulty with Loomis."

"Difficulty?" My wife said. "What kind of difficulty?"

"He won't let us get near his face. He keeps biting us and trying to get away and going to the bathroom all over the place."

When we picked him up, they told us there wouldn't be any charge. Small wonder, because he looked like a Dr. Seuss character with a hairy face and shaved body. (Furthermore, we soon found out that he'd torn out his dew claw in the cage they stuffed him in, so he was super pissed and in pain. We thought surely that's the reason he didn't want those barbarians near his face.)

By now Loomis was beginning to resemble a Wookie, so we found another groomer. Upon picking him up, they told us he was no problem at all. But they hadn't touched his face. Reading between the lines: they couldn't get near his face.

Next! We found this sorta hippy woman who refused to work on a computer, thus rendering her business practices frazzled and forgetful. But, soon it appeared she had developed a rapport with our little devil on four legs and knew how to treat him. Until one day when she called me and said, "I can't take Mr. Loomis any longer. He just has too much power over me."

Huh. I wasn't really certain how this little dog could wield such power over a grown woman, but hey, we began to take it in stride. Getting fired by our dog groomers was becoming second nature.

So, my wife found a dog grooming "school" which taught single mothers how to bathe and trim dogs. Cool idea, I thought. Loomis did, too. At least at first.

However, yesterday when I picked him up, the woman said they can't shave his face any longer. "He doesn't like it," she said.

With a heavy heart, a heavier sigh, and the little trouble-making canine under my arm, I left. Fired again.

Now, I have a certain affinity with Mr. Loomis. True, I've never tried to bite my barber (then again, maybe I would now if I had any hair), but we're both cranky old men who get crankier with each ensuing year and ache and pain. So I can't be too mad at the lil' fella. Besides...no one really knows what goes on behind closed doors and we're only hearing the human side of the story. Could be Loomis has legitimate gripes with these groomers (i.e., a torn dew claw).

But in the meantime, the hunt goes on for a groomer who'll prove to be a match for our tiny terror. Anybody want a job?

Speaking of terrifying creatures, pity poor Shawn Biltmore. On his corporate retreat, he's bitten by a werewolf. And believe it or not, there's something even more sinister going on at his mind-numbing, soul-destroying corporate job. Read all the thrills, chills, spills, and dark humor in Corporate Wolf.

Big-Ass Bustle

We were watching a TV show set in the late 1800's and after awhile, I'd had enough. Every "high society" woman had one of those goofy looking dresses that made their asses look huge.

"Honey," I said, "what's with the big-ass dresses? What're those called?"

With an eyeroll that threatened to eclipse me, my wife replied, "bustles."

"Okay. But what's the point of them? I mean...surely they have to realize they're not really flattering. And how do they sit in them? Why? Tell me why they existed!"

For once, my wife didn't have the answer (she mumbled something about bustles being a status symbol amongst high society women and it was the trend of the day and...and I quit listening and headed to Google.).

The answers I found varied. Ms. Google said that bustles were wire frames that were used to support the drapery of the ginormous dresses women wore, to prevent the material from dragging. Here's an idea, old-timey ladies: how about don't wear drapes and then you can forego the bustle. I mean, honestly.

Another answer was that women liked bustles because it kept the material from gathering between their legs, sort of a "gilded age" wedgie, if you will. This makes more sense to me. But, still...wouldn't it have been easier to just adjust your self instead of trying to sit in a giant, wire hula hoop?

Here's where things get interesting...the origins of the bustle can be linked to Sarah Bartman, a South African woman who suffered from a condition called Steatopygia. What is that, I hear you asking? Why, Steatopygia is an abundance of tissue on the thighs and buttocks!

Certain European exploiters paraded poor Bartman around as a "circus attraction." The bustle was created to achieve this look, for Gawd's sake. Now. You hear that, old-time women? About the circus "freak" part? Why would anyone want to emulate that?

A bustle was also supposed to make a woman's waist appear smaller. Huh. Clearly they didn't have diets back in the day.

I had kinda thought that maybe one of the reasons for the bustle was so that men couldn't ogle women's bottoms. But that's just the seven-year-old boy in me and Ms. Google couldn't confirm my hypothesis.

With the advent of the new creation--"the bicycle"--women began to come to their senses and abandoned the ol' bustle.

Everything that goes around eventually comes back again. Or something. So, ladies, are you ready for the bustle to make a comeback? Not to be sexist, though. Maybe they'll create padding for the front of men's pants. And call it a "penistle."

Do the Bustle!

And on that very high note of sophisticated and mature humor, I may as well keep it going and pimp my Zach and Zora humorous mystery series. They make the above blog post look like the work of a Rhodes Scholar. The first book in the series is called Bad Day in a Banana Hammock (so THAT should give you some idea of the level of comedy involved!).

Tail-Chasing

Usually, I believe that dogs have it made. What a cush life.  Sitting around all day, sleeping long hours, pooping wherever the whim takes you, being fed and taken care of, all in return for a little love. Easy-peasy.

Until you start considering the ultimate act of futility: chasing one's tail. I mean, what are they expecting? 

"Some day I'll get you, you damned tail," they'll growl. "So close, yet so far! But one of these days...one of these days, mister!"

Now, I've seen some smart dogs and some dumb dogs. Currently, we run the gamut of mutt-types in our house. Our newest dog, Biscuit, is a tail-chaser. But, c'mon! Chasing your own tail has got to be one of the most aggravating and useless wastes of time since approaching a MAGA guy and hoping for inciteful political debate.

Everyone knows Einstein's definition of madness: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." Well, fine, in a dog's defense, I'm sure they're not very well-schooled on Einstein. But surely, they've run into a smarter dog than them who might help to guide them.

"Hey. Hey, Longfellow...Psst...you know your tail's attached to you, right?"

"Whaaaaaaaat? No it's not! Quit pulling my paw!"

DO they know their tail is attached to them? I had so many questions, so I turned to my trusty research assistant (who ALWAYS supplies nothing but facts), Dr. Google.

Dr. Google found a quote from an animal behaviorist who works at Camp Bow Wow (no, I'm not making this up; everything Dr. Google tells me is always true.): "Dogs are aware that their tails are attached to them. However, puppies may be exploring their bodies in this manner."

Well, I guess I can understand that. I spent many an adolescent day behind bathroom doors exploring my body, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

But there are also other reasons for tail-chasing. There's OCD. Now...leave it to us to adopt a puppy with OCD. But that may explain Biscuit's sitch. Every day we gather up the dog toys and every day, he must grab every single one of them and spread them all over the house, setting traps for his clumsy people.

Or it could be boredom. That holds true for our new puppy addition, certainly. Guy never rests and he hates when I'm on the computer. That's generally when most tail-chasing occurs.

Yet the behaviorist went on to say that the reason why they may be chasing their tails is they like the reaction people give them. While it's true that I laugh at Biscuit's ludicrous behavior, he'll always stop in his tracks upon hearing me as if in a game of musical chairs and stand very still. Definitely no tail-wagging as the behaviorist said they'll do upon pleasing their humans. So I'm going back to OCD as our puppy's diagnosis.

Furthermore, the behaviorist suggests taking your dog to the vet upon continuous tail-chasing. Where, I dunno, I suppose the vet will put the pup onto a chaise and ask him about his mother and stuff.

"Okay, Biscuit, what does this ink blot look like to you?" Dr. Freud will ask.

"Woof!" (Translation: "My tail!")

I believe Biscuit is truly in his "anal stage."

Speaking of dime-store psychology, you'll find a ton of it in my thriller trilogy, Killers Incorporated. Take my protagonist, Leon Garber. He's got some issues, a few daddy issues amongst other things. He's also a serial killer. Oh! And he's the hero! Read about his exploits in the darkly, morbidly humorous suspense trilogy, beginning with the first book, Secret Society!

Air-Conditioning the World

"We can't air condition the world," my dad would say. "Shut the door!"

Wow, my wee young brain thought, maybe air conditioning the world is a nice idea. I mean if people are starving in China (another shameful ploy my dad used to get me to eat lima beans), might not they also be hot in the summer if they can't afford air-conditioning?

So, for a while, young Stuart left the door open whenever he could get away with it, doing my part for humanity. (My liberal tendencies began from the crib onward).

Oh, sure, I felt guilty at times (particularly when my dad reached for his belt), because I knew that air conditioning the world might be a bit expensive. Yet, I thought a thousand dollars was about the biggest buncha money I'd ever heard of (next to a "Kazillion infinity"), and somehow I remember figuring that's what the bill for air conditioning the poor would ante up to, and I thought my parents could surely foot the bill. 

It was worth it.

I'd lay in bed at night thinking about how a cool wave emanated from our open door, circling the globe, and reaching the farthest countries of earth, delivering cool, sweet relief to those less fortunate and more sweaty than us. By golly, it's what Jesus would've done!

Then--after many, many punishments--I came up with a backup plan: if everyone who could afford air conditioning left their doors open, then the bill wouldn't be too bad at all.

Needless to say, my Quixotesque childhood quest to cool down mankind didn't get very far along after the first neighbor told me to get lost. (And I have absolutely no reason nor excuse for trying to leave the water faucets on and plugging the drains in the bathrooms when we'd leave for a family vacation other than I thought it'd be neat! Indoor pool! Gosh!)

But if everyone had opened their doors to cool off the world, we just might not have devastating climate change now. Hey, I never said I was a scientist.

While we're bandying about idiotic ideas, Tex McKenna--like all teenagers--is full of ideas that aren't very well thought out. His inner filter sometimes goes on the fritz when dealing with high school bullies. And his sudden newfound "witchdom" draws him straight into confrontation with a mysterious killer stalking the students at his school. But what's a teenage male witch to do? Find out the answers in my Tex, the Witch Boy trilogy available here!