I wish I had time to take a picture, but I'll just have to describe what happened to our puppy yesterday.
First of all, we're going out of town for a few days, and a very, very kind friend of our's has offered to keep Major for us while we're gone. I wanted to take him to the doggy salon before dropping him off at her home this evening so he'd smell nice and look pretty.
I called our normal groomer, and she didn't have anything available until Saturday, which was too late. She does a great job, and he looks like a show dog when he leaves there. Oh well, I decided I'd have to be brave and find someone else.
I remembered my friend, Terri, telling me about a lady she used, but I didn't remember the name of her business. I called Terri, but she wasn't home. I thought Bonnie had used this person, too, so I gave her a call at work, but she was in a meeting. Sigh.....
It was now up to me and the yellow pages. I called the first one on the list as it wasn't too far away, and I needed to go that direction anyway. They sounded really nice on the phone and said I could bring him right away. I realized where it was as they have a hugh 60 foot iguana painted on the side of their building, but I had never been inside. So, I told them I'd be there in about an hour.
I was in for a bit of a surprise. Have you seen those stores in the mall that are basically black, everything they sell is black, and the sales people are covered in piercings and tattoos? I usually try to walk on the other side of the mall to avoid such places. Little did I know I would be walking into the gothic pet shop!
Very quickly I was reminded of a sermon I heard a few weeks ago at that family-integrated church we visited two hours away. He encouraged us in not being so judgmental about what we see on the outside, and how we need to try find ways to be witnesses for Christ when we encounter people that may not know Jesus. (I specifically remember him saying something about piercings and tattoos as an example.) Not that people can't be Christians and have piercings and tattoos - albeit strange, but usually you can tell the difference - for example, what the tattoos "are" and "say" often reveal the difference.
Anyway, I had a choice. I could grab Major and run out the door, or I could try to smile and be nice without showing my fears as I left him in their hands. I chose the latter. I went out the door assuming I would be picking up a dog with a belly ring and kitty cat tattoo when I returned, but I knew it was what I needed to do.
Even as we left, the girls were asking to go back in there and get him. I assured them he would be fine as this was a place of business, and we'd just be sure and pray over him when we got him back!
They called a few hours later, and we went and picked him up. He didn't look too bad, although it wasn't nearly as good of a job as our normal groomer. But at least he didn't have any holes or drawings on him. Whew!
We got to looking at him a little closer when we got home, and they obviously shaved his legs and left his body poofy. He looks just like a little sheep.
All in all, I feel like this happened for a reason and that we were supposed to end up there yesterday. Earlier in the week, I sent an email to everyone I could think of to see if anyone was interested in buying him or if they knew of someone who was. We just didn't think we wanted the responsibility of an indoor animal anymore. My next step was to put an ad in the local paper, but I've definitely decided against that. If he can't go to someone we know, then I'd rather keep him. Also, I think the girls may have realized that maybe they really do like having him around after the way they worried about him yesterday. We'll see.......
And that's the story of how our Bichon Frise became a temporary sheep dog.