Sundays in the Grooming Salon

Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.
It’s Sunday morning and I’m about to walk into my bliss. My job at Petco. I wonder how many lovely dogs I’ll get to beautify today. What kind of trouble I can get into. I see Clara and Marlena eyeing me through the glass door. Clara, the blondie is already smiling and giggly. Marlena has her painted eyebrow arched. Her red hair looks like flames. They are two of the most beautiful, free-spirited women I have ever known. I open the door and Clara immediately starts yelling, hey sexy. Marlena starts throwing dollar bills at me, calling me a sexy bitch. She tells me she’s going to steal my outfit. It’s not much really. Just a little torn up Malificent t-shirt, off the shoulder, a tank, my bra straps are hanging out. I’m wearing a pair of tight yoga pants. I blush. I smile. I think to myself, let the games begin!
 Of course I start posing.  Marlena starts yelling at me to say it. I grin, look at our new groomer. Hope he’s not easily offended. In my most devilish voice, I scream EAT THE KITTY!!! EAT IT! NOW! The girls lose their minds with laughter. I make a rude symbol with my fingers and tongue. We laugh till we can’t breathe. Our faces flushed. Humphrey looks at us like we’re crazy. Which of course we are.
 They love that I’m crude. That I’m not like their mothers. We talk about boys. All the time. We do have the occasional lesbian conversation. Thus the reason for the “EAT THE KITTY” outburst. I don’t know why I started saying it. It’s been kind of a theme for us. If it gets too tense, I just yell it out.
 I miss my K though. She was our Lucy. I still hold onto hope that she’ll come back. It’s an empty dream, I know. I  told her I’m moving in with her when I get old. I love her. She is me. I am her. In opposite bodies. Opposite ages too. It’s weird. She is my kindred spirit, my split apart, my soul mate. There’s no other way to explain it. She and I, just are….
 We work hard on Sundays. We laugh a lot. We cry sometimes. I don’t know how many times one of us has shared a secret. They just slip out in conversation. Among the dog hair, clippers, brushes, scissors, styptic, and shampoos.
 I can’t imagine my life without them in it. We depend on each other. We have shared some incredible stories. Supported each other through difficult times. I help them sort out their shit.  Take the sting out of their pain. I hug them a lot. Wipe tears. Tell them that I love them.
 I work in the salon out of necessity.  The money is good. But in reality, it’s because of those women. They beautify my life. Those lovely, Gothic women. They mean everything to me.

13 thoughts on “Sundays in the Grooming Salon

  1. This was beautiful. You made me cry. And not in the whole “I just pulled a nose hair out to make myself cry” fashion. No, for reals.

    • Wow! Thanks for the comment. I’m glad you could feel it. That’s how I try to write every one of my stories. I’m sure I’ll have more stories about my girls. They are just so wonderful.

  2. I love what happens ‘among the dog hair…’ I would never think of you as crude, unpretentious, funny, irreverent, but not that. Your flash dance attire is probably so sexy and casual. You write like that, as if someone just threw open a window.

    • Oh Susannah thanks for the compliment about my writing. That is so, so sweet. I want it to be like a breath of fresh air. Like you’re there. Like you’re experiencing everything I am. I’m very unconventional. I don’t want to be labeled. I like this free-spirit that I’ve become. That I’ve always been. Thanks so much for reading and commenting my sweet.

      • A free spirit is a perfect description. Wish I thought of it. I saw a T-shirt that said, ‘Good girls rarely make History.’ I like that. Unconventional, warm, silly, poignant, loving, thinks out of the box….all you.

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