There's Got to Be a Full Moon!: Humorous memoirs of a dog groomer

By Kathy Weber

Some people believe, "Laughter is the best form of therapy." Author Kathy Weber happens to be one of them. Everyone has had days when all they want to do is scream, "There's Got To Be A Full Moon!!!" Kathy, who has owned and operated a dog grooming business for 46 years, has had plenty of these days. She has seen a lot of crazy things and has had enough laughs to last her a lifetime. Kathy and Brad, her loving canine companion, have decided to let you in on some of their experiences. Though Kathy is first and foremost a dog groomer, she has served in multiple capacities: Dog day care provider, veterinarian, professional dog breeder, expert on raising of puppies, authority on caring for older dogs, groomer of cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, ferrets and stuffed animals In addition to all of this she's been known to perform miracles!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644244074

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There's Got to Be a Full Moon!

Humorous memoirs of a dog groomer

Kathy Weber

Copyright © 2019 Kathy Weber

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64424-406-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64424-407-4 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

This book is dedicated to

all my four-legged customers

and

their owners

A dog loves you when no one else does.

Acknowledgments

This book took a little over three years to write, and it was pure enjoyment for me. The wonderful, humorous memories that came rushing back to me were unbelievable.

The first person I’d like to thank is my friend, Donna Heimbach. She’s my telephone laugh therapist. I call her whenever I have one of those days. We laugh about the day, and she always tells me I should write a book. Thank you for your helpful comments and suggestions.

A big thanks goes to the Wisconsin Romance Writers of America Club. They let me join so I could pick their brains about how to write a book even though I wasn’t writing a romance. A special thanks to Donna Smith and Pamela Johnson. I really appreciate all the help and information you gave me.

Thanks to Jeanne Lamsam and Betty Rather for their help critiquing the book. Thanks to Rebecka Selmer for her wonderful illustrations.

My loving thanks to my sister, Sue Weber Hegge, for letting me tell some of her humorous dog grooming stories. Thanks for all the help and encouragement I received from my mom, Jeanne Weber, my sister-in-law, Marie Weber, and her daughter, Jessie. A very special thanks to my son, Tyler Wilcox, who taught me how to be in control of our computer at least most of the time. Thank you, Dawn Bagley, for transferring my book onto a CD. Thank you to my daughter-in-law, Angela Wilcox, for putting my pictures in my computer for me.

Last, but not least, I want to thank Christa Fisher for taking time out of her busy schedule, as a full-time mom to five-year-old Jacob and two-year-old Imani, to edit my book. For without their loving help and patience, this book would never have been written.

Laughter is the best form of therapy.

Chapter 1

My Best Friend

Have you ever wondered if you’re the only person out there who’s had off-the-wall-days?

Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name’s Dotty Moran. I’m a widow, with two boys, Josh and Nate. I’m self-employed, and I love my job. I knew what I wanted to do for a living when I was in seventh grade. I was going to be a professional dog groomer.

The family dog has come a long way from being tied up in the back forty, to sleeping on our beds, to being the center attraction in the family portrait. I couldn’t be happier about it.

I’ve owned and operated a dog grooming shop for the past forty-six years. I have seen a lot of crazy things, and I’ve had enough laughs to last me a lifetime. So, Brad, my loving canine companion, and I have decided to let you in on some of our experiences.

I groom dogs, period. How much clearer can I make it? I don’t groom cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, or ferrets. I groom dogs. I don’t cut rabbits’ or white rats’ nails, birds’ wings, beaks or claws. I groom dogs. I’m not a kennel, but Brad would like to differ with me about that. I don’t cut senior citizens’ toenails. I don’t sell goldfish. I groom dogs. I’m not a veterinarian. I don’t sell any small animals. I’m not a miracle worker. I am paid in full when my services are rendered. However, I am holding a $62.50 past due grooming bill. It’s called Brad.

Brad was a very unexpected debt. I think Mr. Dufuss called me about getting Brad groomed just because my phone ad is at the top of the page for pet grooming in the yellow pages.

I remember the day Mr. Dufuss and Brad walked into my shop. I took one look at them, and I knew there was no bonding of love or loyalty between the two of them. Brad was chewing vigorously on the dirty, old leash he was brought in on. Mr. Dufuss stood as far away from Brad as he could, so as not to have to touch him, for fear of getting some kind of dog germs!

I could tell Brad was yearning for a gentle, loving, caring hand. As soon as my hand touched his head, I could see a sense of relief in Brad’s eyes as I scratched behind his ears. Mr. Dufuss suddenly said, He really isn’t my dog! I inherited him after my brother died. He was all that my brother willed me. His girlfriend got everything else!

I asked Mr. Dufuss what the dog’s name was. He answered in a very resentful voice, My brother always called him, ‘Brrrrraaaaddddd.’"

When I asked Mr. Dufuss how he’d like Brad groomed, he told me, You’re the groomer, so groom him anyway you want.

Just before Mr. Dufuss left, he asked, How much is all this going to set me back?

I said, $62.50.

As he started for the door, he muttered under his breath, That mutt’s not even worth that!

I quickly told him that Brad would be finished at three o’clock as he stormed out the door. Brad and I just stood in the office staring at each other with a sigh of relief.

It’s not too often I get a chance to groom a dog just the way I want to and get paid for it. Because Brad was a mixed breed, there were a lot of different ways I could do him. As I lifted him onto the grooming table, I realized how thin he was. He was skin and bones. I bet he only weighed about thirty pounds, and for his size, he should have weighed around fifty-five to sixty pounds. I could also tell he was a young dog. I guessed him to be a year to a year and a half old. By the looks of his coat, he hadn’t been brushed for some time. I just felt so sorry for him.

He has a face that when you look at him, you know he understands every word you’re saying. His eyes are soft looking like melted chocolate. He has this way of raising either eyebrow or both depending on his mood. He has one droopy ear. But let me tell you, he really knows how to work the other ear to get just the right look to catch your attention.

After I finished grooming Brad, he looked like a different dog. I told him Mr. Dufuss wouldn’t even recognize him. Three o’clock came and went. Then came four o’clock and then five and still no Mr. Dufuss. By 5:15 p.m., I tried calling him only to find out the number had been disconnected. Something in the pit of my stomach told me he wasn’t coming back.

That evening when I brought Brad home, and he walked into our house, it just seemed right. I told my sons Josh and Nate what had happened, and they couldn’t believe it. The boys and I felt like Brad was an old broken-in tennis shoe that we had misplaced and then finally found.

Two months earlier, we had to put our twelve-year-old German shepherd Rudy down. Brad was just what we all needed. The boys and I fell instantly in love with him. I could tell by the way Brad acted and looked at each one of us that he knew he was finally home!

Now, the one thing about Brad is he doesn’t like to be treated like a dog. He just wants to be one of the boys. You know how sometimes kids don’t always like to follow directions? Or, they like to have their own way, and they don’t always obey you. That’s Brad! I had Josh who was fourteen, Nate who was twelve, and now Brad, all trying to show their independence!

Nate’s best friend lives right next door to us. His name is Christian, and he has a yellow Labrador named Alta. She, on the other hand, likes being a dog. She listens and obeys him and his family quite well. Christian’s backyard is fenced in with this three-foot chain-link fence. Alta loves it. She feels like the backyard is her big playpen. She has a lot of toys and plays with every one of them. She would never think of demolishing any of them. That is, until Brad came into her life.

Alta was out in her backyard the first day I brought Brad home. I knew it was important to see how will Brad was going to adjust to our friends and us as soon as possible. Alta, Christian, and his family were a big part of our lives. I only hoped Brad would love them as much as we did. I had Brad on a leash when we took him out in the backyard. As soon as Alta heard our back door open, she came running up to the fence nearest to the door, knowing one of us was coming out and hoping for a head scratching. To her surprise, she came nose to nose with Brad.

We all stood there and watched as they went through the looking and sniffing of each other while they walked up and down the fence together. They proceeded to hop around with front feet down on the ground, their butts up in the air with tails wagging as they ran up and down the fence barking at each other. It was instant friendship.

The first thing I found out about Brad was that he was an escape artist—nothing could confine him. It only took Brad four days before he had enough of that fence and over he went. As Brad jumped the fence, Alta just stood there with a look on her face that said, "We can jump this fence?"

Jumping the fence became a daily routine for us. As soon as Alta was out in her backyard, Brad wanted out too. He saw how much fun Alta was having with all her toys, and he soon learned to have just as much fun playing with her toys too! Except Brad liked to kill the toys that had squeakers in them, where Alta would never think of being that rough with them. So, needless to say, the first thing that went on my grocery list every week was a new squeaky toy for Alta.

One day when I let Brad out, I noticed that Alta wasn’t out. I thought, That’s odd!

Then about ten minutes later, Christian called and said, Dotty, could you please come over and get Brad? He’s standing on his hind legs with his front paws up on our sliding glass door, crying and whining for Alta while we’re trying to eat supper. Alta doesn’t want to come out and play with Brad right now. She likes to lie under our table while we eat, just in case we drop something.

I couldn’t believe it when I opened the back door and saw Brad. It took three calls before he finally came back over the fence—one unhappy camper.

During the summer, I had more problems confining Brad than at any other time during the year. He just didn’t understand why he couldn’t go out every time the kids went. Alta always knew when she could go, and when she couldn’t, and she happily accepted it. Not Brad!

It was a few weeks into summer vacation, and the boys were over in Christian’s backyard throwing the tennis ball back and forth. Alta and Brad were in the middle trying to get the ball. From Christian’s backyard, you could see the public tennis courts. As soon as one became available, the boys went off to play tennis, leaving the dogs in the backyard to play with each other.

Brad had other thoughts. As soon as he saw the boys in the tennis court, over the fence, he went. When he was about eight feet away, Alta started crying because she wanted to go, but she didn’t know how to jump the fence. She knew her owners didn’t want her jumping the fence. Oh, to own a dog with a conscience. Brad turned and saw her pleading eyes and back he went over the fence. He started to pace around the fence line hoping to find a spot where Alta could squeeze through. However, no such luck. Then he spotted the gate. He walked over and used his nose to push the U-shaped handle up and open. Brad turned around and barked at Alta as if to say, "You won’t get into trouble now because you didn’t jump the fence. You walked through the door. Da. Somebody must have left it open!"

Through the neighbor’s backyards they went, and the next thing the boys knew the dogs had their tennis balls. That night Christian’s dad put a padlock on the door of the fence and gave Brad that bad boy look.

Brad was soon labeled the leader of the pack. That changed,