Hairdiggery = Tomfoolery

I had to take my Boomy to the groomer this morning to get his hair did. He hates it. I think he has learned that a car ride in the morning is nothing to get excited about. As soon as we exit the car, we are greeted by the noise of a million dogs barking. I don't take him to PetSmart anymore, because they didn't do a very good job and they were kind of bitchy on more than one occasion. The good thing about them was that they seemed to like my dog.
Now I take him to the Hermitage Pet Inn. They are attached to a vet and also board animals, which I guess is why there seem to be an insane number of animals squalling when we walk in the door. They seem to do a pretty nice job, but he hates it so much that it makes me wonder if they torture him. He gets all shaky the minute we walk in and spends his time trying to slink out the door. But since he's all shaggy his feet just slide on the tile and I hold him there, running in place. And feel evil. Like a mother abandoning her child. I start to feel really guilty and get distracted when trying to explain how I want his hair, which no one has managed to do yet.
As they lead him away, I want to holler after him, "Please be careful with him. He hasn't pooped yet today!" But then I worry they'll think I'm some sort of d.i.n.k.w.a.d.* obsessed with my dog's bowel movements and that they'll clip his nails extra short to punish me.
So now I sit here during my lunch hour, wishing I could call and check on him. I can just imagine his anxious ass, sitting there all quivery, thinking that I have forsaken him.
The funny thing is that I never like his haircuts. I don't get him cut as often as I probably should, but he has to be maintained or his hair turns into a rastafarian's. It isn't pretty, and it hurts him, and then they have to use a surgical blade to get the mats out (learned my lesson there). But anyway, maybe this time they'll do what I want. Still puffy, just trimmed up and even. With clean ears, a clean butt, and shorter nails.
I think I'll give him some wet food in reward for his torture.

*That's Dual Income No Kids With a Dog for you, mister. And no, I don't care if acronyms are not cool.