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.
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