It doesn't take long to realize that I adore this little dog. (Just take a look at the fact that I have a tag devoted to Buster, and you'll see dozens of posts over the years.)
At nearly 13 years old, this little Bichon Frise has been a furry, four-legged member of our family since he was six weeks old. Bichons marvelously don't shed, but the trade off is that they require more grooming than many other breeds. Buster needs a haircut every couple months.
Every dog owner probably has their unfortunate groomer experiences to relate, and Buster has had his share. On his last trip to the groomer, she sheared the skin behind his ear and didn't notify my parents. The resulting, hidden wound got so severely infected that Buster had to spend a couple terrifying days at the vet, under observation while getting intravenous fluids.
After a heart-wrenching week, Buster thankfully recovered. Ever since then, Mom has understandably been reluctant to take him back to (a different) groomer, so she's undertaken the task of trimming him up herself. He verbally complains, but he knows she's the boss, and he behaves for her.
You can tell he's looking at me and saying, "Do we really have to do this again?"
He may not enjoy the grooming process itself, but he does love the freedom that follows. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he sprints through the house, leaps on the couch, and joyfully gets his revenge by rolling from one end to the other.
And then he's happy.