Why I Know That Pet Grooming is a Must
As a child growing up in the 50’s many pet owners were not able to properly care for their pets and I very much regret this
The 1950’s Inky was our black Cocker Spaniel. My parents brought him home when my sis was maybe 5 or 6 years old. He wasn’t meant to be her dog, just a cute addition to our dysfunctional family which made us look like a normal family with two kids and a dog. Back then families were big on appearances.
By the time I was 4 my 13 year old sis was devouring books and over-studying to avoid being around our alcoholic father and the general chaos he created, while I turned to Inky. Thankfully by this time my father worked nights so we weren’t around him much.
Until I was 6 or 7, Inky was my playmate, my partner in crime, my soulmate at times and my muse. I even wrote a few childish poems about him which my mother totally blew off and probably tossed. My emotionally drained mother rarely saved anything we made.
In 1st grade we had the assignment to write a story about our family and as you may guess, mine was about Inky. My astute, confused teacher called my mom later and said, “I didn’t know Pammy had a brother named Inky.” I’m glad to report that explaining my story shamed and embarrassed my mother.
Inky was fed canned dog food called Strongheart which we later learned was horse meat. How disgusting, right? I haven’t been able to think about all the poor horses who were slaughtered to produce this meat for many decades. However, I remember learning that a couple of our neighbors fed their dogs nothing but table scrapes.
Inky was bathed in a metal wash basin in the unfinished side of our basement next to the sump pump. There was a hose attached to our well that we used to fill the basin and that water was as cold as ice. We used Pinesol as there were no dog shampoos so you can imagine how he smelled. To groom him, we first had to cut out all the thick wads in his coat using scissors. No electric trimmers for dogs were available then.
I think Inky got bathed maybe twice a year, which I’m sure he was happy about as he hated baths. Who could blame him! I know we bathed him only in warm weather because afterwards we had to take him outside to dry and trim him.
There were also no systemic flea/tick products and no flea collars, so Inky was plagued with both. Luckily he didn’t sleep with any of us, but just wearing white socks around our house guaranteed they’d be covered in fleas. Poor Inky had big knots in his skin where ticks lived as my parents didn’t know what to do about them. They weren’t about to take him to a Vet either because that costs money. My father was a total skinflint who micromanaged every dime my mother spent and his temper was nasty.
I don’t remember anyone ever taking Inky for a walk, but he spent time outdoors in our backyard tied up on a chain. No dog house though as he was only let out to do his business. I remember going outside and sitting with him on the back porch to give him the love he, and all of us craved.
When I was 6 or 7 my mother divorced our father and our lives calmed down a lot, but they didn’t really improve because our mother acted like one who was suffering from what we now know is PTSD. This is when she divorced herself from her emotions too. Nevertheless, she had to go to work so she became a sales clerk at Macy’s and this left my sis to care for me.
To his credit our father paid child support every month without fail until I was 18. Court ordered, of course, but I still hold onto this knowledge as a hedge against all his other shortcomings.
Although I don’t think Inky saw a Vet, I remember he had a vet tag on his collar. It was probably a city license and was put on when they 1st got him.
For flea control we had to put white powder on him which due to his black coat made him resemble a ghostly apparition afterwards. The powder smelled medicinal but it was all that was available.
We never trimmed his nails, or cleaned inside his ears, nor did we clean his anal gland; all these necessities were performed later by Vet who began to hire pet groomers in the 70’s.
By the time Inky’s health failed I was a busy senior in HS. My mom discovered him early one morning lying on the kitchen floor barely alive and she yelled for me. I remember I blurted out that we needed to take him to the humane society NOW so they could mercifully put him to sleep. She didn’t argue but she asked me to drive because she was too distraught. Who was the parent here?
I will never forget carrying him inside in my arms crying so hard I could barely see and a kind woman telling me to put him on a table close by. I managed to tell her he was 18 years old and was dying. I asked her to put him to sleep and she said they would do it right away. Then I ran out of there and had a complete melt down in the car.
My mother blamed herself for his sad condition and I didn’t argue. I was furious at realizing how badly he had deteriorated right under our noses. I loved him in my heart like a brother.
Life went on and maybe a year or so later I gifted her with a puppy I adopted from the humane society. This pup was a female Lhasa Apso she named Mitzy and I’m happy to say that with out one word from me, she took her to a Vet for regular grooming’s, and health check ups yearly. Mitzy was given flea dip baths often too at the Vets.
Mitzy lived to be 15 before my mother discovered her lifeless body in the kitchen one morning. A vet had told her it was just a matter of time because her kidneys were failing and there was no treatment for it back then. Although she was heartbroken she called animal control who soon arrived and took her away.
When someone gets a pet they need to realize it becomes part of their family. Pets have needs that must be taken into consideration and handled responsibly with the cost of their care factored in. Dogs require at least a 10 year commitment, but many live well beyond that. Cats and birds and rodents too should never be brought into a family without careful consideration given to the care they need.
Thank you for reading and thoughtful writing everyone.