June 29, 2014
All of the others are past leaving tufts on the carpet and you can run your hand along their sides without coming away with a palm full of fur...but our biggest boy and our Diva Empress are another story.
White Dog's coat is curly from the need to remove the dense undercoat and she is brutal at scratching her haunches. Morning and afternoon brushings this past week or so have yielded at least three brushfuls per session...and still she leaves bits of white love everywhere.
YoYoMa has classic full pantaloons and leg feathers but they are slimed to his body from his constant attempts to stop the itch himself. He is a stubborn big baby and does not like being groomed; his bag of tricks includes the sit down on the part that needs brushing...the twisting around and around in circles...and the pressing tightly against you so you can only brush one side. All of the while whining and carrying on like he is being tortured. Today I grabbed him by the front armpits and hoisted his paws to my shoulders. There I locked him into a loving embrace as Steve who was sitting on the floor managed to do a bit of chest and belly furminating...the cost of that trauma? TWO strips of jerky and being ignored the rest of the afternoon.
Bella and Puff are our best Groom Girls. They both love being combed and curried and will sit patiently arching to show you where to work next. Bella especially likes being held in my arms as we work. Puff tilts her head back and closes her eyes in bliss; with her thinning old lady hair it really doesn't take long to brush her but she enjoys it so much I often continue just for the pleasure she gets. Both girls have silky smooth coats.
Taiko, a wad of mats when he first came to us, is learning to enjoy Steve's focus as he is groomed and I think, actually likes the itch-free unbinding feel of being properly maintained. He has a luscious healthy coat now and Steve's work makes him prance a bit with pride.
The Little Tyrant, Sachi-San, and i had a "discussion" about personal hygiene and brush biting not long ago. Because of his breathing issues, he drools and his ruff gets tangled. And his extra floofy little back end needs brushing out as well. He resigns himself to my arm anchoring him but has taken a page from the YoYo Concerto about moaning.
Whenever Steve walks into the newly vacuumed room to find tufts or I look down as we drive down the driveway to discover a dusting of fur on my shirt, we remind ourselves that someday we may look back on these "floof rules days" with tears of loss. And we smile at the thought that every part of our lives carries with it white reminders that we are loved.