Revisiting Kelly, scariest groomer & the best

         Oh weary day! Outside it's gray & damp. And inside? "What do you have to complain about," you say. "After all, you're in your very own loft, bought at premium price and belonging to you alone."

How I wish that were so. In fact, I'm again enduring the ministrations of that wretched woman, Kelly, owner, proprietor of Doggie Styles.

No disrespect to Kelly. I'd be happy to entertain her at Maman's et Papa's house, Cotswolds Cottage, any time. Kelly is a great dog lover; she cares deeply about her clients.

The awful truth, however, is that she scoops us up, places us on a table, tethers us, and brings out the implements of torture.

Today I share the horror (oh, the horror) with pals Mary Catherine, Charlsie and Zoe.  Together we will shiver and cower, trying our best to slink into a cell or behind the couch, hoping against hope that we shall remain unnoticed. Unfortunately, Kelly is meticulous at work; unlikely that we will hide effectively.

Maman et Papa have promised to rescue me at 2:30. Let us hope against hope that they will be prompt.

Mercury finds herself at Doggie Styles

On a fateful morning last week I found myself shipped off to that location of fright repute: Doggie Styles. Head warden, Kelly, is a charming woman, talented, fun-loving and attractive, yet one who will never exceed her role as Groomer-in-Chief-of-Doggies. You can call it Doggie Styles or you can call it a dog's dread dream, it comes to the same thing. The photo is all the exhibit needed.

Shorn. Scalped. And threaded onto a long red rope. The result of a long day's journey culminates in what you see here.

Other dogs share the long day's journey. Some of them, frightening, some frightened, some alone in groomer land for the very first time, some old, wise and patient with experience.

To all I would counsel resignation. You will find your way to Doggie Styles. You will be bathed, blown and groomed. Dogs that you don't know will share these intimate rituals. Abandon hope but remember that this too shall pass.

Sleep

Sleep. How do I love you? A dog's life is marked by long periods of sleep. Perhaps you did not know that dogs total sleep time daily is 21 hours.

Dogs sleep for several reasons. The first, the pure pleasure of sleep's luxury and the excitement of dreams, considered the film of the dog world.

Second, let's be honest. Our loving people leave us all alone for 8-9 hours per day. Sure there's mischievous behavior to indulge, books to read, television to watch, and computers to use (!), but after all one can only remain occupied for so long. So, yes boredom plays its role.

Finally is the cuteness (the awww) factor. While I appear to be napping, Maman et Papa feel compelled to provide treats and play when I "awaken." Poodles have a special advantage: our long hair hides our eye (see photo above) so in fact Maman et Papa can't tell if I'm sleeping or if I'm awake. (see entries about omniscient and darling Santa).

In the end, sleep does play a large part in the life of dogs generally and in mine specifically. Luckily I've been given several different beds, one in each room, plus a cool loft space, my own home, in the bedroom. I hope you too are provided with the proper accoutrements of deeply restorative sleep , with the time necessary to refresh and to reflect on sweet dreams.

Reflections on Christmas from dawn to dusk

Dear Followers,

About Christmas. It never travels far from the Roushanzamir household. It has been a week since the start of 2012 but as you can see the Christmas tree is still up.

Are Maman & Papa merely procrastinating? The horrible truth is that the Christmas trees stay in place all year long. Christmas trees, Christmas lights, Christmas cards, Christmas decorations, Christmas stockings, even Christmas music dominate the decor of all but my own very small loft apartment. The worst of course is that there's one major omission of the Christmas season revelry: No More Gifts.

What are Maman et Papa afraid of? Letting go of the general jollity? Fear that their lives will pale to a tepid gray without the (spurious) sparkle of what, let's face it, are tawdry symbols of a highly solumn if joyous holiday. Perhaps these accourterments symbolize their attempt to bring joy, if not to the world, at least to out household.

Or could it just be that Maman et Papa are indeed procrastinating and that days turn into weeks into years into decades and so come to define the lives of my darling, if eccentric, my very darling Maman et Papa..

Dear Santa, 2011

Dear Darling Santa,

Thank you for bringing me some presents, some of which I like. You are the kindest, nicest man ever and I count you as my very best friend. It's wonderful that you take the time to visit me each year but I know that you see me when I'm sleeping and know when I'm awake 24/7.



To summarize: I did not get the Hide 'em and Find 'em plush toy with several small blue balls. On the other hand, I'm grateful for the antler chew toy and the long-needed china food bowl. I received a vintage reindeer toy but clearly that was for Maman. The candy cane chew toy's okay; it's not real candy. I was especially hoping for the I'm Beggin' Ya Treat Box (big size). But although that didn't materialize, I'm rather relieved not to have received a Burberry sweater (or for that matter any sweater).

[May I say, dear Santa, in all honesty that when it comes to the gifts, I was hoping for more?]

As for Maman and Papa, their gift experience was also mixed: no Mercedes, no 10ct. emerald cut, set in platinum diamond ring. Papa opened package after package of clothing. But he also found a Doctor Who hologram chamber and a special "Brown Betty" tea pot under the (rosemary) table top tree. And his loot included a Smiley's People DVD. Maman's hopes for Co Co Chanel perfume were rewarded. On the other hand, she has already returned her new warm winter coat. They both did receive thick warm socks.

We shared Christmas dinner with Pam, Sophie and Lily and that was wonderful. Great drink, food and conversation! Their tree was spectacular, the girls and Pam are beautiful, and everyone treated me as an honored guest. They appreciated the gifts I brought them--a cornucopia of fancy makeup, tough-cool black leather gloves for Pam, and $50 cash for each of the girls.

I have used my time this holiday season constructively. I've paid special attention to perfecting the combo winsome-wistful sideways Glance. I've steadily improved and at present the Glance is liberally rewarded with holiday treats, those reserved for doggies and those intended for strictly human consumption.

So, Santa, although I have some reservations, Christmas has been a happy holiday. I hope your Christmas was the best ever, that you in your turn received desired gifts and tasty treats, and that now you take a well deserved rest basking in the knowledge of a job well done.

I love you Santa, very very much. I hope you love me too.

Week of Woe

The Christmas holiday season is my favorite time of year. A time when I expect new toys, treats, perhaps a Christmas sweater (I chose the word "expect," not desire)

But this past week can only be described as a major downer, a week of woe. First, a routine trip to the dentist turned into major medical. Second, the resulting meds led to some seriously deceptive behavior (on the part of certain people) which I shall explain momentarily. Then to add insult to injury, today I was dragged (chose that word advisedly) to Doggie Styles, the lair of the frightening Kelly.

The dental situation is dire; I will not linger over it here. The meds, a different story. Willingly I ingested the medications three times per day for several days. Now wouldn't you expect that if one prescription expired the others would too?

Learn from my experience; meds last as long as they last. Fed up with Maman's and Papa's mendacity I tried to refused the pitiful attempts to lure me with cheese and ice cream with more or less success. Finally, this morning, at the hint of the profferred cheese and ice cream, I ran away! They couldn't believe it. I'd confounded them thoroughly and I was feeling pretty fine

In the midst of my jubilation, however, Papa lured me into the car and drove me down that loathsome road ----- to Doggie Styles (ugh). I've written about Kelly before. She is a nice woman and pretty too. But her profession dooms her to the dread-list of doggies everywhere.

Now that Christmas is only 5 days away, I can only hope that my sacrifices to (not of) Good Behavior, my acceptance of adversity with no (or little) crying or pouting, and my general good cheer will be remembered by darling Santa who act upon that accordingly.

Don't Pout, Don't Cry, Be Good

Post Script to my last:

Darling Santa, To show both honesty and contrition, two valued qualities, I must make a confession. This morning, I stole into Maman's room and made straight for the basket with cute gifts for big girls; also piled high with festive Hershey's kisses. Yes, I know I'm not allowed in Maman's room and yes, I know doggies are allergic to chocolate.

In my defense, Maman closed the door behind her as she left, but true, I was hiding out hoping she wouldn't notice me. (She didn't)

I grabbed a kiss when I had the chance. Santa, I swear (purely a figure of speech) on my dog food and my dog treats that I did not eat the chocolate! It was the candy wrapping I was after, and for a few bright moments I strewed it about for all I was worth. Maman blew into the room like a tornado, I don't know how soon after I'd begun my thrilling shredding of candy wrapping. My fun ended & victory wasn't won.

Santa, I do hope this episode doesn't compromise me in the gifts stakes. Please take into account the 364 days of 2011 that I have been and will be good.

Please refer to my previous blog posting if you've forgotten what's on my gift list.

In closing, I love you darling Santa. You're my greatest pal. I hope you're in good shape for your upcoming night time marathon. In your honor I will read my ebook pop-up version of The Night Before Christmas (available as an iPhone app) daily between now & then.

Love again, Mercury Murphy Roushanzamir