I frowned a little as I read it—apparently the Pawfectionist’s prices had gone up. Not that it would stop Great Aunt Maizy from using them—she claimed they were the best groomers in town and the only ones who could handle her babies properly.
The front desk was empty and there were no other customers in sight at the moment. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I should call for an attendant, a harried-looking woman in a white smock with brown stains on it rushed up.
“Hi there, I’m here for Princess Prissy?” I said politely. “I’m picking her up for my Great Aunt Maizy. It’s her, er, ‘special day.’ The dog’s—not my Aunt’s,” I added, feeling awkward.
“Oh! Oh, of course!” the woman exclaimed but there was a slightly wild look in her eyes.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, frowning. Princess Prissy was Aunt Maizy’s favorite dog—if something had happened to her, there would beHellto pay.
The woman shook her head quickly.
“No! I mean, well… No,” she concluded, biting her lip, and not looking confident at all.
“What’s wrong?” I could tell that she was lying. Something was definitely up.
“Well, it’s just that we think maybe Princess Prissy might have eaten something that wasn’t good for her little tummy,” the groomer said in a rush. “I mean, she’s such adelicatelittle thing. We don’t think she’s in any danger but she has had several, er,accidentswhile we were trying to groom her.”
“Accidents?As in…?”
“Loose stools.” The groomer leaned over and nearly whispered, as though this was a confidential matter and she was afraid someone else might overhear us. Then she straightened up and smiled breezily. “But you know, she seemsfinenow. So maybe she’s gotten it all out of her system. In fact, I’m justsureshe has!”
I looked at her uncertainly.
“Um…okay. So is she ready to go?”
“Yes! We’ve just finished the third shampoo and blow out and her nails are perfect,” the groomer said, nodding eagerly. “I painted them ‘Petal Pink,’ just as your Aunt requested.”
“Wait—thethirdshampoo and blow-out?” I frowned at her.
“Oh, well…I’m afraid that’s when Princess Prissy had her accidents—just as we were finishing her up she, er, made a mess on the grooming table.Twice.”She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m afraid we’ll have to charge Prissy’s mom for that—your Aunt, I mean—a bit extra for that. So the price will be a little higher that usual.”
Mentally, I rolled my eyes. If I had half the money my Great Aunt spent on dog grooming I could freaking solve world hunger. Or at least afford to pay off my student loans. I thought about arguing—after all, should they really charge so much more? Dogs taking a dump on the table must be par for the course at a grooming establishment, right?
But I wasn’t footing the bill—Aunt Maizy was—and I knew she wouldn’t want me to fight with her favorite groomers. So I just nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me get her and get out of here. You can put it on my Great Aunt’s bill as usual.”
“I’ll go get her,” the groomer said, smiling even more brightly—an expression that looked forced. And then she scampered to the back of the salon.
“Yip-yip-yip! Yip-yip-yip! Grrrrrrrrr!”
I could hear Princess Prissy coming long before I saw her. Thankfully, the groomer had already put her into her carrier so I didn’t have to deal with that. Prissy hated her carrier with apassionand I always ended up with bites and scratches when I had to put her in it myself.
“Well, here she is!” The groomer gave me another nervous smile. “And please tell Miss Maizy that we hope she enjoys her big day!”
“I will,” I said, smiling back as I took the handle of the carrier from her.
I brought the carrier out to my car and then looked inside to see if I could tell if something was wrong with Prissy. But it was impossible to tell—she only bared her teeth and growled at me, which was her usual greeting for everyone but my Aunt.
“Well, okay—nice to see you, too,” I told her as I put her carefully in the passenger floorboard. She was so light I didn’t want to put her on the seat—if I stopped suddenly she would have gone flying!
My answer was more yipping and growling so I shrugged and drove back to Great Aunt Maizy’s house.
My Aunt’s house was at the far end of her neighborhood and was located past a set of tall wrought iron gates and down a long, curving drive. I pressed the code to get in and waited while the gates swung open with Prissy growling all the way.
When I finally got to the end of the drive, I found that the whole place was in a state of barely-controlled chaos. Doggy caterers from The Pampered Pooch were running back and forth, there were bunches of gold and silver balloons tied all over, and a valet attendant was parking cars for the guests—which consisted of other wealthy dog owners and their dogs.
I saw several of them walking on the lush green lawn already, the dogs making each other’s acquaintance by sniffing butts while the owners—who were actually dressed in long, fancy gowns and tuxes like you would wear for a formal human wedding—were nodding and smiling and making small talk.