Every dog has a silver lining

After having had Pepper in our home for just over a month, it was decided that our little princess deserved some special treatment. She'd been taken for walks, fed plenty of treats, bought many toys and there was only one thing left to do.De-scruff.Research was carried out, Tickles were checked (nope, none for her...but a bargain for me)and a dog groomer found. Sonja instructed me how to find her home, "it's not a shop, it looks just like a house...because it is my house" and informed me that Pepper's hair care programme will be more expensive and frequent than my own.

Friday, Dog Groom Day, arrived. Money was organised, Pepper was brushed (well, we didn't want her to look a mess!), Pepper was fed a little bit of breakfast (we didn't want her to embarrass herself), Pepper was walked and then tricked into the car with the promise of tidbits and, if she was good, a trip to the pet store later. Gav and I drove off wondering whether she would look like the dogs in the pictures - would the groomer suddenly discover how to give her pointy ears? Would Sonja bleach Pepper's beard? What would we do if we found out that our scruffy one wasn't really a little grey dog after all? With some trepidation, we arrived, met Sonja (a jolly lady with an inside out t-shirt, which made me pleased I wasn't being styled that day), left Pepper sniffing around the hallway and went to the supermarket to buy food. It was next on our list of things to do.

A remarkably short while later Sonja telephoned to say that Pepper was ready for collection, with a strange timbre in her voice suggesting that the grooming hadn't gone quite as expected. "No, no need to rush," she said, "Pepper is fine here...she'll still be fine when you're ready."

Which isn't quite what you expect, is it, when your little princess goes to the beauty parlour. Fine? Beautiful, stunning, glamorous, those are the words Paris Hilton would have expected and while Norwich is no Beverley Hills, I still think that is what I should have heard. Hmmm.

Time to head back out, neither of us wanting to voice our concerns.What was so fine about our dog? We didn't feel any better when we saw Sonja, still wearing her inside-out t-shirt, this time with a few extra stains. "Hi," we said, peering past her. "Hi," she said, blocking our view a little. Hmm...I thought. "So," she said, "Pepper's been cut and it had been quite a while since her last haircut, which means..." (and I know that I NEVER want my hairdresser to start out with a sentence like that!) "...you may be a little bit shocked. BUT I have spoken with another groomer, and while we have never seen such a, well, I guess, white Schnauzer, we think she might not be a pure Schnauzer?" Workman never blames their tools? "But having said that," she rushed on, noticing our faces, "I've gotten used to her and you will to." With that, she turned around and headed into the hallway (hallway of doom in my mind, I can tell you. Dog groomers are now in the same group as dentists I think) before returning holding the familiar yellow lead attached to a slightly familiar, very white, very bouncy and very happy little dog.

"So," she said, "I think it is slimming?"

I'm not so sure "slimming" is the word. Less scruffy, and, after a trip to the beach on Sunday, less dazzling than it was initially. If only she had been able to perform the same whitening trick on that ginger beard.