White Dog was groomed on Friday and the girls at Scot's clucked at our baby and said, "Girlfriend, you got here JUST in time. You REALLY need to be coiffed!" So it is with the rest of the White Dog Army. As Spring has sprung white floof has begun to shed and fill the air.
YoYoMa, our biggest boy has been scratching and tugging at his furs like a madman. His normally silky smooth coat is rough and signals that it is time for a Spring purge of the thick winter build up. Problem is, YoYoMa is a grooming challenge.
First up on the revolving list of thorough combouts, Yo started crying as Steve opened the drawer that contains all of the brushes and combs. He rushed to me and pressed himself as tightly against me as possible as Steve took out the shedding hoop comb. I spent several minutes petting and reassuring my fierce protector and promised that no eskies would be harmed in what was to come. He did not quite believe me but allowed Steve to kneel with us and begin the combing.
At first Yet Another White Dog winced and shuddered. Then he realized that losing the loose itchy fur actually felt good as Steve went down his back and sides.He happily anticipated the thinning of his ruff and tolerated the comb stroking down his chest.
When it came time to work on the haunches, pantaloons and feathers, my brave boy faltered and started howling piteously as he collapsed on his belly, all of his legs drawn under him. The rest of the White Dog Army rushed to his defense and clustered around their downed comrade. He continued the theatrics as I lifted him up and arranged him so that he was straddling my knees.
Steve could work on his back end this way and my boy could not wiggle away or escape. He looked at me with eyes accusing of betrayal as I softly ran my fingers over his ears and kissed his nose. My arm around him could feel that his underside and belly were in desperate need of attention as well and I puzzled through how to make that happen without too much stress or further drama.
Wrangling my 45lb boy so that his back was against the seat of my chair and he was wedged between my knees gave me a renewed respect for the grooming girls and the great results they send home. White Dog (though much smaller) was fashion model perfect, soft and free of excess coat. YoYoMa will need a similar visit once his coat truly begins to blow, but for now...
I lifted my boy into a sitting up/begging position, holding him under his front armpits from behind. He squealed and wiggled and I locked him with my knees. Steve worked lying on the floor combing out an underside that was tangled and ripe with loose fur. The rest of the WDA jockeyed to get a closer view.
At this point we had groomed enough hair to create a toy version of the breed and YoYoMa was at the end of his patience. "We are NOT done by any means, my love," I whispered into his ear as I slipped him a treat of salmon jerky. "The season has JUST begun." He took the treat and ran outside.