2002 Essay Contest Entry Archive

2002 Essay Contest Entry Archive
"Why I Became a Groomer" or
"Why I Want to Become A Groomer"

As I arrive to work the smell of wet dog mixed with urine and poop fills my nostrils. The sounds of sharp barking and menacing growls fill my ears. I am startled by a loud high powered dryer suddenly blasting with fury. I take a quick turn around the corner, and see what awaits me: a room full of dirty, nervous dogs anticipating what fate lies ahead of them. On second thought, maybe they are just wishing they were on the next express bus out of here.

Should I turn around and go back home, to my nice soft bed and my quiet bedroom? No, something pulls me forward, and within minutes I find myself drenched with soapy water up to my elbows and dog hair up my nose and in my eyes. You would think any normal person would run the other way and never look back. But not me, I embrace it. The experience is challenging and satisfying all at the same time. So what if I have hair splinters growing out of my arms? So what if I smell like a wet dog when I leave work? It makes me happy, and this is why I chose dog grooming as my career.

Being a groomer is very much like going to art class for the entire day and having new masterpieces to create. Every day you are given a new material to mold into a fine piece of art. I cannot wait to see what kinds of dogs will be waiting for me, what new breeds I will be exposed to, and what new techniques I will learn. At the end of the day, I come home much more knowledgeable about what I do. It is an endless learning experience, and all I want to do is go back and learn more.

There is something so satisfying to have a dog look at me at the end of a groom as if to say, “Thank you, I feel so much better,” even though moments before it was trying to tear my hand off as I brushed out the last of its tangles. As soon as I am finished with one, another mop is on my table. It continues like this all day until I just cannot work anymore. I am exhausted, and nearly deaf from the incessant barking and yipping. But I look around, breathe deeply, and take great pleasure in the fact that there is no more dirty dog smell. Even the skunky smelling old sheep dog in the corner smells like a bottle of fresh mint. It took me about three washes, but he now is free of the putrid “parfume de skunk” that had engulfed his body just hours before.

There are no more forlorn faces staring back at me, only proud, clean, happy dogs. They just cannot wait to show off their gleaming coats and fresh new haircuts. My job is done and I will go home to rest my sore, aching body so I can continue another day. And you know what? I can’t wait!