Since Mom is a butcher with clippers, that meant a trip to the groomer.
If you've been following my diary, you'll know that I've had some horrible experiences with groomers. Mom and Dad only moved to Lawrence about a year before they got me, so they don't always know where the best places to go are. Even Mom still goes back to Pittsburg (where Mom and Dad originally came from) to get her hair cut because she can't find anyone she likes here. And when it comes to my hair--forget it!
For starters, they always clip off my nice, fuzzy beard. And one time--the last time I went to that particular place--Mom came to pick me up and I was screaming on the grooming table. Really, it wasn't just a temper tantrum, I was seriously in upset. Mom didn't know if it was something the groomer was doing or not, but she decided that I did not need to be put through that again.
Luckily, by taking me to my Rally-O class through the Lawrence Kennel Club, Mom has met some very nice dog-people who told her who the best groomers are. She made me an appointment with them.
They were the greatest! Dad took me in yesterday in the morning and picked me up at lunch. When he came in they were finishing me up, and I was behaving very, very nicely. The lady who groomed me was quite the sweet heart. She told Dad that I had been a "doll" and I "didn't have a mean bone in my body."
And she left my beard! What's more, my face looks great and my coat is ever so smooth! When Mom came home and saw me I think she about cried. She scooped me up and held me and called me the most handsome little Welsh lad ever.