Columnist, Veronica Clark: A true life shaggy story
Like the vets, Max usually tries to bolt for the door when he realises where he is. But he must have caught a glimpse of his hobo fur as he passed the shop window because this time he went willingly. It was only when we went to collect him that my life-changing moment occurred.
“Oh, he looks great. You’ve done a wonderful job!” I gushed to the man behind the counter, as Max wagged his tail at the back of the shop.
“Max, Max!” I called out. “You look gorgeous!”
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Hide AdThe man shot my husband a puzzled look. My husband shook his head and gave me a sideways glance. Even the dog looked over at me as though I was nuts.
“Er, that’s not Max,” the man said.
“It is!” I gasped, thinking I’d know my dog anywhere.
He shook his head.
“Well, he certainly looks like him,” I insisted, screwing up my eyes to take another look.
“You need glasses,” My husband butted in.
“But he looks just like him. Why, don’t tell me it’s a girl?” I gasped, thinking Max would kill me if he could hear the conversation.
“No he’s definitely a boy.”
I felt better. At least I’d picked the right sex.
“Although, I suppose his ears do look a little longer now you come to mention it.” I said, still squinting.
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Hide Ad“That’s because he’s a poodle.” The man sniggered. “He’s not even the right breed!”
Just then, a macho-looking Max padded out from the back of the shop. He was clearly twice the size, and didn’t look very impressed by his haircut, or by me. I glanced from the poodle to Max, and back again. The poodle’s eyes screamed ‘stranger danger’ as though I might dognap him at any moment.
“Now do you believe me?” My husband remarked as we climbed back into the car.
“About what?”
“You almost picked up the wrong dog. Veronica, you need your eyes testing.”
Needless to say, I’ve booked an appointment.