So delighted she shared photos all over the Granville gossip page on Facebook.
Soon, we were flooded with appointments. And the dye jobs just got weirder and weirder. I dyed a boxer to look like a leopard, then a Chow to look like a lion, and then a happylittle terrier to look like a miniature elephant, with his tail representing the trunk.
Friday, I dragged myself away from a warm bed and an amorous Jamie to rush home and change for work. I threw together a sack lunch, showered, and packed up Bruno in record time.
It was only when I got to work I realized I forgot my lunch on the kitchen counter.
“Ricky is ready for his spa day!” Iola said when she brought him in. “He’s quite put out that he’s had to wait so long.”
“Well, his dye will be even brighter than all those other dogs,” Sammi said. “Right, Ricky? You’ll outshine them all!”
Iola perked up. “I do like the sound of that. Ricky is made for the spotlight.”
The hyper little terror was made for time-out, but I decided to keep that thought to myself. “So, what are we doing today? I could see Ricky as a little Tigger. He bounces all over.”
Iola laughed, delighted. “That does sound adorable, but no, all these animal depictions are just plainweird.I don’t want to make my Ricky look like another animal. What if he gets a complex? He’s perfect as a dog.” She looked down and crooned at him. “Aren’t you, Ricky? You’re a good boy. The perfect boy. Yes, you are!”
I was surprised Iola had such a grounded attitude. This dye-the-dog trend was a little over the top, but I’d learned in my time here that the older ladies in Granville typically lived by that motto.
“You don’t want Ricky to have a dye job then?” I asked. “I can groom him, no problem. He won’t need much, but we can clean him up.”
“No, no, honey, I do,” she said. “I want him dyed. I just don’t want him to look like another animal.”
“Ah, okay. What are you thinking? Something colorful and fun like Lula’s Skittles?”
Iola snorted. “That woman and her ridiculous dog! I can’t go anywhere without hearing about precious Skittles. I’ve had to start avoiding the dog park.”
My lips twitched. It was true that Lula and Skittles had attained a bit of local celebrity, being trend-setters and all. Iola was clearly burning up with jealousy.
“Okay, tell me what you have in mind.”
“I don’t want Ricky to be a frivolous set of colors, or another animal. He’ll be an important mascot to my cause.”
She filled me in on the details, and I exchanged a look with Sammi. Poor Ricky. Well, they did say the customer was always right.
“Okay, Iola, I’ll get started. He’ll be ready in two hours, or you can pick him up at the end of the day. Is it all right if we post pics to our Facebook page? It could be good exposure for?—”
“No, I want his reveal to be a surprise at the festival! These other dogs will be old news, but my Ricky will be a fresh new work of art.”
I chuckled. “Okay, you got it.”
Iola left, and I moved a quivering Ricky to the washbasin. He was small enough I could plop him inside. I hooked him up to a safety harness and reached for the sprayer.
“Can you believe her?” Sammi said with a head shake. “These old ladies are wild.”
“Yep. Well, she goes all in. Maybe you should bring in your babies and follow her example.”
Sammi laughed. “Are you going to do that to Bruno?”
“Ah, no. I’m tired of the paying jobs. No way I’m gonna do it for free.”
“Too bad,” she said, eyes sparkling. “You could dyeI heart Jamieon his side.”
“Funny,” I said dryly. “I’m not that sappy.”
My phone rang just then, and I grabbed it up. “It’s Jamie.”
She laughed. “Sure, you’re not that sappy. Okay, lover boy.”
