I don’t have any {human} children and I haven’t darkened the doors of a preschool since my own humble graduation from those primary portals, but I do have to say: taking Joey to the groomers is what I think taking your child to preschool for the first time must feel like. It doesn’t matter  how rambunctious Joey is being before we get to the groomers. As soon as we step past the chiming doorway, he’s a perfect angel. Shy and shaking, he sits pressed against my legs while quiet little whines escape his throat.

Suddenly I feel like a monster, the most horrible of negligent mothers. What if he’s not ready for this? What if the other dogs are mean to him, or pick on him? What if the groomer doesn’t understand that he likes his blankets piled up in a corner, or that if he starts hopping like a bunny rabbit, it means he needs to go outside?

I spend the rest of the day worrying about Joey, whether he’s happy or being taken care of or if they remembered to give him a treat after his haircut. By the time I go to pick him up, I’m about to burst out crying, I’m so worried that I have caused permanent damage to my poor baby Joey.
Of course when I get there, Joey is quietly snoozing away in his little cage. When he sees me he yawns and leisurely stretches his newly shaved legs, looking at me like, “oh are you here? alright then, I guess we can leave”. I pay the groomer while Joey plays a quick little game of fetch with his new best friend and then proudly rolls over onto his back to get his belly rubbed. show off.

As I drag my suddenly social butterfly of a puppy out the door, I once again tell myself how utterly ridiculous I am and vow not to give in to Joey’s histrionics next time I have to leave him somewhere with out me. Because clearly, he is a professional actor and a slut. target pants//zara heels// 7th & West necklace c/o// Essie Licorice nail polish