Oh. My. God.

Okay, who designated July 14 as National Be-An-Asshole Day, and why the hell did no one warn me?

First was the pissy foreign lady siccing the manager-on-duty on me over her chihuahua (No, she cannot have a puppy groom if she's not a puppy, and I don't care if she weighs three pounds or thirty, a year and a half old is not a puppy; yes, nail grinding really does cost that much - don't snark at me, complain to corporate; no, you cannot have special shampoo and conditioner without paying extra, sorry, that's just the way it is; yes, I can get your dog done in an hour and a half instead of three, regardless of the two jack russells and the lab waiting their turns in the back, but I'll have to charge you an express groom...). That was about the point that she snatched up her chihuahua and stalked out and hunted down the manager to throw a tantrum.

Then there was the fact that I still had to do said dog as an express without charging the lady because, hey, gotta make the customer happy, even if they are taking out their hot-flash inspired anger on the poor, unsuspecting bather. (The dog was a sweetheart, bearing out the theory that the bigger a jerk the owner is, the more you wind up loving the dog.)

As if that wasn't enough for one day, then I had another kee-raaaazy guy come in with his pair of - guess what? - chihuahuas. He just wanted nail trims. Okay, I can do that. I still have a lab in the back that's got an inch-deep crust of mud that I need to get off, but a nail trimming won't take long, right?

Urrrgh...

One of the chihuahuas didn't have his rabies vaccinations, so they had to take him to the vet in the store to do his nails. The man left the other dog who did have current rabies with me, warning me that he'd have to hold the dog for me. Okay. Wait for the guy, trim the nails, do the lab... I can do all that in two hours before I leave, right?

Right?

The man was gone for twenty. minutes. I could not put the dog in a kennel. I could not bathe my other dog. I was stuck there. I dared attempt to clip his claws, just in the hopes that I could have him done before the guy ever came back. I got one dewclaw without any fuss. The dog turned around, looked at me, and rather matter-of-factly nipped me. Okay... might need to wait for the guy...

The guy finally moseys in. "So, did you do his nails?" I told him no, I had tried, and I had nearly been bitten for my efforts. "Yeah, I told you you'd have to have me hold him." He scoops the dog up like a plushie and gives me the go ahead.

Item #11 of Things They Don't Tell You in 'Dog Bathing 101': owners in general suck at restraining their dogs.

The little fragger bit me. He actually drew blood. Honestly, that's the first time I've ever had a dog break the skin - mostly they just nip.

It had been a very bad day. First angry chihuahua lady, then this guy, plus the stress of watching the clock tick-tick-ticking away on my time to get that lab done, plus the fifty-seven chigger bites I brought away from my vacation this last weekend, which were itching like a bitch in heat. (And to quote Evelyn, for anyone who may remember, I just happened to be "healthier than I have any right to be. Lucky, lucky me.") Oh, my god.

I wanted to cry, and I think everyone in there knew it.

And as the rotting cherry to top off the day, the guy, standing there cuddling the dog as though I'm traumatizing it somehow, looks at me wiping the blood off on a nearby towel, and he goes, "Is that yours or his?"

"Oh. Mine."

"Ah. That's okay then."

At least all the other girls think he's abso-fragging-lutely out of his mind, too.

I've got to be back at eight tomorrow. Here's to the six-hour workday.