2003 Essay Contest Entry Archive

Why I Became a Groomer

I was never a fan of animals. My mother was always particularly strident about how dirty pets were, how disgusting, how much trouble--and thus we had none.

How interesting, then, that at 25 years old, I should develop a sudden interest in being a pet groomer. Especially now, when I am slaving away in graduate school, one year away from my Masters Degree in advertising.

But something happened a couple months ago that really changed my mind about the importance of animals. Something that really woke me up to the fact that these creatures are just as deserving of comfort and respect as the rest of us on this planet. What happened that day in October shifted my focus so dramatically that I can barely believe it. Because an animal--a "mangy mutt," if you will--quite possibly saved my life.

I live about three blocks behind the building where I attend class each day, and at least twice daily I walk through a dangerous, neglected alley with boarded up buildings that have long fallen into disrepair. This summer, as I walked through the alley, I noticed a small, homeless-looking dog with black-and-white, matted-down fur.

His lot in life, it seemed, was to scavenge the dumpster there for food. I often turned my nose up at that dog, wishing him the worst, repulsed by his filth and hoping he would just go away. We passed each other's paths every day for months, and I sometimes feared the dog might become territorial and try to hurt me--a thought I can now attribute to my ignorance. Because one night, that dog proved his presence to be nothing short of heroic.

That night in particular I was very late heading home. It was about 3:00 am and I was really weary, chatting on my cell phone to stay awake, but totally unaware of my surroundings. Suddenly, a man came out of nowhere, grabbed my purse and started to take off. And he would have succeeded, too, had it not been for that small dog with the big growl. He let out a deep and thunderous bark; then started yelping at the top of his lungs. The man became as frightened as I was, and dropped the purse before running away.

I didn't know what to do. If this had been a person that had risked his life for me, I could think of a million ways to try to show my gratitude. But what do you do when your hero is a dog? It was then that I got online, researching the Humane Society and local pet shelters before stumbling on PetGroomer.com.

Finally, I thought, I had a way to thank this dog for all he had done for me. If I could find a way to clean him up, I could get a shelter to take him. And if I could get him to look as good (if not better) as all the expensive dogs in the fancy pet stores, I could find a home for him that could offer the love he so desperately seemed to need and want.

So now I am on a mission. Not just for this dog--who taught me the greatest lesson of my life thus far--but for all abandoned pets. It is my hope that once I get some pet groomer training under my belt, I could offer my services to the Humane Society or an animal shelter in the area so that I can make this dog and others as beautiful outside as I now know with certainty they are inside.

Getting the message out is no problem for me. After all, I'm going to school for advertising. But with your help, the financial aspect would be no trouble, either, and a lot more people and animals could experience the type of joy the other essay contest participants describe here.

That, to me, would be a satisfactory "thank you" to the little dog in the alley that saved my life.

And that is why I want to become a pet groomer.

Ellen Miller

Copyright 2003