It Could Happen to Anyone?
Here is a throw-back for a little understanding of how this blog formulated, years in the making. I felt certain things have happened, or let's face it, I've done, that has made me think, who the hell does something like that? Or once in a blue moon, something crazy might just happen to me, be it no fault of my own.
Well, I don’t think there was a blue moon for this one.
I feel like it was a Friday. Years ago, somewhere between 2001-2003, I was making many preparations to leave for the weekend. At that time, I was a mother of one small child. I was in that mom-mode of packing for a 2 ½ hour trip, solo parent, with a small child, and I had to be somewhere at my destination by a specific time. I can't remember where or why. Ok, so that paints a little picture for you and maybe gives some explanation for what occurred before we left and how long it took me to figure out what was wrong.
Our dog, Charlie, was at the vet/groomers (same place). I was to pick her up and get her home before my son, and I left for the weekend. I rushed in, a child in tow, to retrieve our dog. It wasn't busy. I paid for the service just as someone brought out my dog and put her in my arms. She’s was shivering, as always, because she hates the groomer. Taking my son’s hand, I preceded to our minivan. Now it’s a juggle. First, I placed my son in his seat in the back. Then I opened the front to put my dog down because that is where she likes to ride, then back to buckle my son in properly. Meanwhile, my dog begins to freak the hell out. She scrambled between the two front seats, spazzed out all around the back and then ends up cowering on the floorboard. She refuses to come back up and sit in the front. I’m confused.
I drove talking to her, reassuring her that she is going home and that it’s okay. We lived four miles away. After pulling into our garage, I went around to open the back door. My dog lunged out, runs around the garage and down the steps to the basement. So, okay, now I'm getting a little concerned. Instead of wanting to enter the main house, she preferred our unfinished basement. Heading there, I found my dog shivering in the back corner of the basement and won’t let me near her. Now, I’m freaking out. She seemed traumatized. What did they do to our dog? I'm thinking someone hurt her. I'm guessing she fell off the groomer's table. I'm assuming they cut her too close and she is in pain. She doesn't do well with pain. I’m thinking another dog attacked her. Someone hurt our fur baby.
I call back to the groomers, explained my current situation and tried to nicely ask if something happened to my dog while in their care. They reassured me that nothing unusual happened. That everything was fine. Fine? My dog was cowering in the corner of our basement where she rarely goes, won’t let me near her and seemed terrified. That’s fine?
I tried to talk to her, move closer, but she began growling. We are probably an hour in now since leaving the groomers. I call back to the groomers because something happened to her. I just know it! They seemed annoyed at my accusations now. How dare I? They have trained professionals there. They take excellent care of all the dogs. In the middle of my ranting to them trying to get them to admit that something had to have happened to our poor dog, I’m staring at our dog in the corner, and it all finally hits me. Oh my God! Yes, ladies and gents this is what you’ve been waiting for… It’s not our dog! I was given the wrong dog, same breed, same color, same fur cut, but not ours.
So, if you were to reread this and think about it from the dog's prescriptive, then yes, she was traumatized because a stranger just dognapped it from the groomers. Here is where the divide happens: Is it all my fault or all the groomer’s fault? I mean how could I not know it wasn’t our dog, right? I get it. I still look back and shake my head. But, then you might be thinking…Wow, what is the odds that two of the same type of dogs would be there at the same exact time getting the exact fur cut? Excellent chance, in my world. But then your mind might circumvent to how could a grooming establishment give someone the wrong dog? Right?
Regardless, the story does get worse. How? The groomer wants me to bring this dog back right then. I tried to move closer to see if I could possibly calm her or get a hold of her to put her in an animal crate. She bared her teeth and growled. I’m wasn’t going anywhere near her. Plus, I had to leave. I am 2 ½ hours away from having to be someplace at some time. I called my husband and had to explain the whole thing.
My hero to the rescue. He said to get our son and leave for our trip. He wasn’t going to have me there trying to deal with someone else’s traumatized dog all on my own, with our small child. He didn’t want me rushing either because I was late. He said he would take care of it all. The grooming established was now pissed because I wouldn’t bring the dog back right then and that they will have to wait for my husband to get home who works almost an hour away. My guess is that they wanted that dog back before the other owner found out what they did.
Now my husband steps in. One thing you need to know about my husband is he has a no tolerance for people being ignorant to him which is what the groomer decided to be when my husband called. And then the actual vet got on the phone to throw his weight and credentials around. In the midst of their rudeness and my husband’s intolerance for bullshit, the establishment placed all the blame on me, his wife, and passed a harsh judgment upon me. Oh, that got uglier real fast.
From here the events are foggy for both my husband and me, now in our, creeped-up-on-us, older age, except for the very last event. A nice police officer had to mediate the exchange of dogs by the end of that evening.
So, this has happened to some of you out there, right, in some form? No? Only I?...Really! Only me?
Picture of Charlie around that time.
Other random cocker spaniel dogs. Very similar...right? (Creative Commons)
