Well, I quickly got my come-uppance from my parental skills-judging last post. I took my awful chihuahua to the groomers over lunchtime, to get his nails cut. The last time his nails were trimmed, it was Christmas, and it was such a harrowing experience, Jason and I have been avoiding it ever since. He now looks like Lady Deathstrike from X-Men, and there's no avoiding it.

So I took him in, and warned the lady that he probably needed to be muzzled, and she might need a few extra people to hold him down. She took one look at my 6 pound dog and, with amused eyes, told me that she'd be fine. She left the room with him, so I went to the Post Office.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived back at the groomers, peeking my head cautiously around the kennel door. She practically pounced on me. "Has anyone else ever cut that dog's nails before?!" "No...." I said, wondering what atrocities had just occurred. She said, "I've never seen anything like him in all my years of dog grooming!"

Apparently, Squirrel wouldn't even let her get the muzzle on him. He almost bit her, got loose, ran into a corner and peed all over everything. He basically went ballistic. I groaned. She managed to wrangle him into a cage, where he stood cowering until I picked him up. She said, "Good luck with that" and pretty much hinted that my little 6 pound tornado wasn't welcome back to her shop.

I called Jason and he said, "Well, you're his mother. You must have made him this way." I know he was joking, but argh!!! I am the worst dog mother! I am so mortified! I guess it was justice.