Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Now, lest you yourself are a dog owner and you’re starting to hate me, let me tell you—I don’t have anything against dogs in general—it was just Princess Prissy that got on my nerves. And I really wouldn’t have minded her so much if she hadn’t bitten me so often.
Most dogs are okay, though I will admit to being more of a cat person. I was, in fact, half-owner of an outdoor cat named Mr. Kittles—the other half-owner being my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Simpkins.
We took it in turn to feed Mr. Kittles who was an orange striped tomcat with a rusty purr and a friendly disposition. He was missing one eye and part of an ear which made him look kind of like a feline pirate, but he was quick to come running when he heard the sound of a can of soft cat food being opened and he always twined lovingly around my legs. Also, he never tried to bite.
Despite the yip-yip-yip of the door alarm, there was no one up front in the fancy pet salon. I spent a moment looking over their “list of services” which was displayed in fancy lettering on a chalkboard at the front—much like a menu at an exclusive bistro.
Shampoo, condition, blow-out--$120
Pawdicure--$75
Simple Trim--$75
Full Shave--$100
The whole shebang!—Shampoo, condition, blow-out,
simple trim and pawdicure--$250
I frowned a little as I read it—apparently the Pawfectionist’s prices had gone up. Not that it would stop Great Aunt Maizy from using them—she claimed they were the best groomers in town and the only ones who could handle her babies properly.
The front desk was empty and there were no other customers in sight at the moment. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I should call for an attendant, a harried-looking woman in a white smock with brown stains on it rushed up.
“Hi there, I’m here for Princess Prissy?” I said politely. “I’m picking her up for my Great Aunt Maizy. It’s her, er, ‘special day.’ The dog’s—not my Aunt’s,” I added, feeling awkward.
“Oh! Oh, of course!” the woman exclaimed but there was a slightly wild look in her eyes.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, frowning. Princess Prissy was Aunt Maizy’s favorite dog—if something had happened to her, there would be Hell to pay.
The woman shook her head quickly.
“No! I mean, well… No,” she concluded, biting her lip, and not looking confident at all.
“What’s wrong?” I could tell that she was lying. Something was definitely up.
“Well, it’s just that we think maybe Princess Prissy might have eaten something that wasn’t good for her little tummy,” the groomer said in a rush. “I mean, she’s such a delicate little thing. We don’t think she’s in any danger but she has had several, er, accidents while we were trying to groom her.”
“Accidents? As in…?”
“Loose stools.” The groomer leaned over and nearly whispered, as though this was a confidential matter and she was afraid someone else might overhear us. Then she straightened up and smiled breezily. “But you know, she seems fine now. So maybe she’s gotten it all out of her system. In fact, I’m just sure she has!”
I looked at her uncertainly.
“Um…okay. So is she ready to go?”
“Yes! We’ve just finished the third shampoo and blow out and her nails are perfect,” the groomer said, nodding eagerly. “I painted them ‘Petal Pink,’ just as your Aunt requested.”
“Wait—the third shampoo and blow-out?” I frowned at her.
“Oh, well…I’m afraid that’s when Princess Prissy had her accidents—just as we were finishing her up she, er, made a mess on the grooming table. Twice.” She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m afraid we’ll have to charge Prissy’s mom for that—your Aunt, I mean—a bit extra for that. So the price will be a little higher that usual.”
Mentally, I rolled my eyes. If I had half the money my Great Aunt spent on dog grooming I could freaking solve world hunger. Or at least afford to pay off my student loans. I thought about arguing—after all, should they really charge so much more? Dogs taking a dump on the table must be par for the course at a grooming establishment, right?
But I wasn’t footing the bill—Aunt Maizy was—and I knew she wouldn’t want me to fight with her favorite groomers. So I just nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me get her and get out of here. You can put it on my Great Aunt’s bill as usual.”
“I’ll go get her,” the groomer said, smiling even more brightly—an expression that looked forced. And then she scampered to the back of the salon.
“Yip-yip-yip! Yip-yip-yip! Grrrrrrrrr!”
I could hear Princess Prissy coming long before I saw her. Thankfully, the groomer had already put her into her carrier so I didn’t have to deal with that. Prissy hated her carrier with a passion and I always ended up with bites and scratches when I had to put her in it myself.