It’s that time of the summer when my petunias are getting leggy, and I’m feeling sluggish from too much potato salad, ice cream, and the like. A bit of exercise wouldn’t hurt, but who wants to in this heat? Charlie’s draggin’ around the house. Why, even our little dog Scamp’s looking kind of mangy. So, I checked the calendar and, yup, it’s been about six weeks. Time to take him to Clip ‘n Dip.

That’s Joanie St. Cyr’s doggie spa over on Brookside Drive. Joanie is the Vidal Sassoon of dog grooming. Before we found her, I took Scamp to this other gal (who shall remain nameless). Poor Scamp would come back home looking like an oversized white rat: not very attractive!

See, Scamp’s a bich-poo (a bichon-poodle mix), we think. He came from Poodle Rescue, so we’re not sure. He has hair, not fur. So on the plus side, he doesn’t shed. The down side is, he needs a regular hair cut. We spend more money on Scamp’s hair than we do on Charlie’s. ‘Course Scamp’s got a lot more going on in that department than my husband, who has, what we refer to as, “bold forehead.”

Scamp’s three, and he’s really mellowed out since he first arrived, shaking and skittish, from Poodle Rescue. It’s just amazing what unconditional love and no discipline whatsoever can accomplish! Now he rules the roost: fourteen pounds of joy, wringing wet, and cute as all get out.

Except when he’s in the car. Scamp’s a real pip in the car. If I don’t put him in the crate, he just bounces off the walls, yippin’ and yappin’ like crazy. Heck, he’s not much better in the crate. He whines and paws at it the whole time, usually building to a crescendo when I put the blinker on. If both Charlie and me are in the car, Scamp rides in my lap. He’s OK if I hold him, though the blinker always gets him going. I don’t know, maybe he thinks we’re going back to Poodle Rescue to trade him in.

We don’t feed Scamp breakfast before taking him to Clip ‘n Dip. He’ll just throw it up. Oh God, what a drama queen! We get there and he starts shaking. I got to either pick him up or drag to the door. Joanie takes him from me and puts him in a crate until she’s ready for him. As I turn to leave, I’m thinking, Whatever you do, Ida, don’t look back! ‘Cause that cock of the head and “I can’t friggin’ believe you’re leavin’ me here” expression just does me in.

The kicker is that after all that drama, soon as I leave, Scamp’s an absolute angel. Suddenly, he’s docile and good natured, just like when I’m brushing him. Joanie always gives him a good cut, not too short. Like me, Scamp needs a little height on top to look his best, and Joanie leaves his face looking full. “Little big head,” Charlie calls him.

I also like Joanie because she doesn’t tart Scamp up with ribbons and bows. I’m not into dressing my dog up in outfits. It’s just not natural, and always makes the dog look so pitiful, you know? Have you ever seen that website, “Pets Who Want to Kill Themselves”? That’s what a pet in costume always looks like to me. (But I got to admit, some of those photos just crack me up!)

So Scamp is all fluffed out and freshened up. I repotted the petunias, and moved them onto the deck, where it’s not so sunny. Then I got a couple of new, pink flowering, something-or-others for the front stoop. And I bought some single serving cups of sorbet, trying to wean myself of my Ben and Jerry’s habit. The challenge, of course, is to eat only one of those sorbet’s per day. It kind of defeats the purpose if I eat two.

That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!

(Listen to Ida's podcast by clicking here)

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