The Groomer’s Internal Monologue

Ever wonder what goes on in your groomer’s head during your dog’s appointment?

No?

That’s okay.

I’ve been thinking enough for both of us.

Check-In: The Meet & Greet

You walk in with confidence.

“He’s super friendly! He LOVES being groomed!”

My brain immediately starts translating: define “friendly.” Are we talking golden retriever joy… or full-speed body slam with emotional support?

Or you say:

“She’s great for the dryer at home!”

And I’m already picturing a tiny jet engine situation while I smile and nod like we’re about to have a peaceful spa experience and not a wind tunnel test.

Or my personal favorite:

“I want something short but not shaved.”

Ah yes. Short… but not short. Scientifically fascinating. We will attempt to locate this mythical length.

And then there’s:

“I don’t care, just make her cute!”

You do care. Deeply. I respect it. Let’s just be honest with each other and call it what it is.

Or:

“I want a teddy bear cut.”

Perfect. Now we just have to decide which species of teddy bear we are emotionally manifesting today.

All the while I’m doing a mental checklist: coat condition, hidden mats, skin notes, mobility, behavior, previous haircut history, and what we’re going to do if we discover a surprise situation halfway through.

You hand me the leash.

Your dog looks at me like this might be their final destination.

Me internally: alright. Let’s find out who we’re working with today.

Pre-Bath Check

Hands on coat.

At first it feels fine… then a little tangly… then suddenly we’ve entered what I can only describe as “felt project behind the ears.”

Of course.

Now the internal conversation begins: okay, we can brush through this… or we can make a kind decision. Comfort always wins. Every time. We’ll adjust the plan if needed. No panic.

Bath Time

Somehow your dog forgets how all four legs work the moment water appears.

They arrive looking like an athlete and immediately transform into a collapsing puddle of emotions.

The water turns on and I’m trying to manage temperature, protect ears, avoid eyes, assess skin, and figure out what mysterious outdoor adventure they went on yesterday.

And I rinse once. Then again. Then a third time because I don’t trust the first two rinses and I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.

Meanwhile your dog is questioning every life decision that led them here.

We survive it.

Barely.

Drying

Now comes the dryer.

Also known as: the drama machine.

Your dog is convinced this is betrayal of the highest order, while I’m just trying to get them dry before they develop an entirely new personality.

“Stay calm… we’re fine… this is normal…”

Meanwhile I’m thinking about ears that take forever to dry and wondering how something so small can hold so much water.

Slow and steady is the only way through it.

This is where the transformation starts to show itself.

Haircut Time

Now we sculpt. Now we create.

Now we also negotiate with a moving target.

“Okay… just hold still for—”

They move.

Of course they move.

They’ve now invented a new dance I didn’t ask for but am somehow participating in.

I’m adjusting, blending, checking symmetry, trying to remember the original vision while also making peace with the fact that this dog has opinions.

And somewhere in the middle of it I’m thinking: you are very cute, but please stop sitting like a shrimp. That is not helping either of us.

We’ll fix the uneven bits. We’ll blend what needs blending. We’ll make kind decisions instead of stubborn ones.

And yes, I am now emotionally attached to this dog.

Nails & Ears

Nails are either a 30-second win or a full negotiation with a tiny furry accountant who refuses to extend a paw.

“Almost done… I promise… I am on your side…”

Meanwhile I’m also trying not to hit the quick, not get kicked in the face, and maintain the illusion of calm professionalism.

Ears come next.

A quick check reveals wax, a little smell, and my internal note of “we will gently talk about this later.”

Finishing Touches

Fluffing. Combing. Adjusting details.

At this point I’m seeing the final version come together and thinking, okay… this is actually really cute.

The dog immediately ruins it by sitting down.

Incredible timing. Always.

“Please stand still for one second. Just one.”

We fix the eyelashes. We check balance. We adjust the shape. We reach the moment where I can finally say:

Okay. You look really good.

And I may or may not take a picture before the chaos resumes.

Pick-Up Time

You walk in.

Your dog loses their entire personality from excitement.

Suddenly I’m watching a reunion like I haven’t been caring for your dog for the last few hours.

You say:

“He looks SO cute!!”

And I say out loud:

“He did great! A little dramatic for nails, but we got through it!”

Meanwhile my internal voice is asking if one hair is sticking up somewhere I missed, even though logically I know it looks good.

The Truth Behind the Humor

We joke. We narrate. We overthink.

But every single moment of it comes back to the same thing: your dog’s comfort, safety, and trust.

Final Thoughts

Your dog may think they just survived an emotional rollercoaster…

But really?

They got a full spa day, a fresh groom, and someone who cared a little too much about every detail.

And honestly… that’s the job.