It’s not Buster’s fault
I don’t know if I ever told you about my dog, Buster.
He’s not a very friendly dog.
Before all of the social distancing came into place I was supposed to get Buster groomed. He was getting a bit shaggy.
I don’t think it bothered him as much as it did me. I found myself petting the wrong end of Buster sometimes, and that’s not a wise move no matter how much you try to make excuses for it.
“Sorry Buster, you’re so furry now I didn’t realize I was petting your backside.”
Buster does not like people petting his backside. He’s a rescue dog — I got him during a drive-by Bustering — and there had to have been some trauma in his life that makes him very angry when you pet his backside.
Imagine my surprise when I thought I was rubbing his head and then what I thought was his backside turned around and snapped and growled at me.
Imagine my surprise when I realized I still had all 10 fingers.
Scary stuff.
Now, dog groomers may still be open — you know, drive by, drop off the dog, come back and presto! New puppy!
But I can’t do that for Buster. I have to stand next to Buster when he gets groomed. I have to hold his double muzzles on and replace them after he chews through them while he’s trying to get to the groomer.
He’s such a Buster in that way.
But I couldn’t make the appointment before social distancing came into play. I canceled thinking I had all the time in the world to get Buster into the groomer.
Boy, was I wrong.
I don’t have this problem with my other dog, Maize, or as I call her, Moo Moo.
She likes going to the groomer. She likes about everything.
Except Buster.
I tell her she needs to work on her attitude, but she just barks at me.
So Sunday I got a pack of cheese, scissors, and a big garbage can (for his fur) and started trimming Buster myself.
I made sure I started at the front by holding up a piece of cheese and seeing which end grabbed it.
He did okay with his face and upper body. My garbage can quickly filled up and I also ran out of cheese, but I took care of that little problem by emptying the garbage can and getting another pack of cheese.
He did okay when I trimmed along his back. He did great when I rolled him over on his back so I could trim his belly.
He actually likes that because he thinks I’m giving him a tummy rub.
Buster likes tummy rubs.
The whole time I’m feeding him little pieces of cheese and telling him what a good boy he is.
But then I got to his rear.
One second I’m petting Buster lovingly on the head and telling him what a good boy he is and feeding him little pieces of cheese and then … I’m locking myself in the bathroom because Buster’s teeth are very sharp and pointy and he knows how to fire up a chainsaw if the teeth don’t get the job done.
Now I have a dog who is 80-percent trimmed. I won’t flatter myself and say Buster is groomed. He is not groomed. But I can now tell the dangerous end — the do not touch end — from the end that it’s OK to pet.
He looks like he’s wearing a skirt.
Or a pair of those MC Hammer pants.
But don’t tell him that. That’s another thing Buster doesn’t like, being made fun of.
I tell people that when this social distancing thing comes to an end I’m going to find the biggest baseball game I can find and eat the hot doggiest hot dog at the ballpark; I’m going to cheer for the home team and make fun of the umpires.
But that’s not what I’m going to do.
I’m going to take Buster and get him groomed.
Hopefully they can repair some of the damage I’ve done to his good looks.
Then I’ll go to a baseball game.
And I’ll get Buster a hot dog, just because he has me as his human.
