Have you ever had a great idea that backfired? Was it one of those really big ideas, the kind that, when you mention it to people their eyes saucer out and they look at you like they can smell really bad broccoli cooking? It’s that look that says, “Why in Heaven’s name would you ever think this was a valid concept to explore?” I had one of those ideas a few months ago. One evening, while sitting on my end of the couch – there’s a his end and a hers end – I paused a YouTube video I was watching (this is always the beginning of my grand, sweeping gesture: pause video, place phone lightly on arm of couch, take a deep breath) and announced my new focus in life. “Honey,” I stated with aplomb, “We can groom these poodles ourselves.” You could’ve heard a pin drop.
We have 2 standard poodles. Tuck is a small boy, only 43 lbs. He has silky, luxurious black curls, brown eyes, and a white stripe down his chest. He’s the consummate gentleman, so very regal. If dogs could dress themselves, Tuck would greet me in the morning wearing a velvet smoking jacket, sitting at the table reading the Washington Post. He’d wear a monocle & smoke a pipe. He surely has a British accent. He’s the Tom Hiddleston of poodles. Then, there’s Finn, the tiny elephant at 65+ lbs. He’s a cream standard poodle with eyes so black they hypnotize you. His hair is more sheep than dog. At nearly 2, he’s still all gas and no brakes, constantly the bowling ball to my pin legs. If Finn could dress himself, he’d wake up around noon and drive his VW Bug into the kitchen wearing a clown suit and suspenders, eating yesterday’s cold pizza and blasting Twisted Sister from his doggie radio. Finn is the Chris Farley of dogs. Polar opposites, and yet, they’re quite the bonded duo, always wrestling, always snuggling, always together. You would assume, heck bent on bringing my self-grooming idea to fruition, I’d pick Tuck as my first victim, but you would be wrong. Half based on the condition of his coat after spending over 2 months accumulating the tools of this new trade and half based on my mantra of attacking the hardest things first, it had to be Finn. Let’s shear the sheep, shall we?
Keeping a poodle groomed isn’t cheap. You understand this going in. It is a commitment. This is not an easy breezy breed to own. The draw to anything that ends in oodle is that they’re hypo-allergenic & don’t shed. Myth buster that I am, let me pop that balloon first. Hypo-allergenic is a made-up term that backyard breeders throw around freely to sell puppies. Poodles do shed. Here’s the crazy part. Due to their tightly coiled follicle structure, the fur they shed, at the same rate all dogs shed fur, just never hits your floor. That may sound cool until you realize that means the hair isn’t going anywhere. It just falls out yet clumps up. And, it will keep clumping up until it forms knots that make more knots that clump into mountains of knots. So, you brush, every single night without fail. You grab your slicker brush and your pin brush and your dematting brush. You get your metal comb. You spray the detangling spray. And, you turn on Netflix and sit in the living room floor and go to town with the brushing. Marcia Brady used to brush her hair 100 strokes every night. We do the same with poodles. It’s the tiniest of tradeoffs, in my opinion, for sharing my life with the absolute smartest, funniest, & most loyal breed every cre ated. We are poodle people. We fly that flag proudly. Nevertheless, the grooming piece is costly. I’d like to get a 3rd poodle one day, but I also like to eat. And, most multi-poodle families do gravitate to self-grooming along the way. It cuts down on the stress factor of all day grooming appointments, especially for an anxious little guy like Tuck. I can now tell you that grooming a poodle is similar to driving a car for the first time, scary, unpredictable, a far harder than I realized.
Grooming essentials include, but are not limited to: professional grooming clippers, blades for faces/ feet/nether regions, blades for the body, blades for the head, tons of scissors, good shampoo, loads of conditioner, a high velocity dryer, all the brushes, ear cleaner, a hemastat, and a good set of nail clippers. I laid everything out like I was prepping for surgery. First, we brushed. Next, we shaved off some ear matts, because even nightly brushing is no match for a dog that went too long between grooms. Next came the bath. My husband and I both wound up in the shower with Finn, like 2 extra clowns in the Volkswagen. Next, we created a lake between the bathroom and the kitchen. Then we dried with the noise and wind of a helicopter. Then we brushed again, because if a comb can’t go through, neither can a clipper. We wrestled him. We held and cajoled and begged and contorted. He sat when he needed to stand. He zigged when he needed to zag. In the end, however, we were victorious. Sure, he’s a little misshapen. Yes, his ears look ridiculous. To my surprise, shaving around a dogs eyes and down a lip line is far easier than going in between toes. I forgot the tail and I’m far too tired to clip nails tonight. He actually looks better than I expected! I cannot say the same for the kitchen. Do you remember that I Love Lucy episode where Lucy tries to reupholster the down furniture after she paints the walls, but Fred turns on the big fan and it hit the feathers? Pray for us. We are the poodle people.
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