Jake Howard

Jake Howard came to visit today. He walked into the front door, shook the snowflakes out of his rich brown hair and smiled. With an ease and confidence of one who is accustomed to authority, he greeted me with a sloppy kiss. Blushing, I subconsciously glanced toward the office where my husband sat just out of sight.

"Jake, please," I pleaded. His brown eyes twinkled mischievously and he looked much younger for just a moment. He was middle-aged but still quite handsome. The outdoorsy type, he was fit from hiking, and fishing, and other manly activities.

"Jake, how are you?" Wayne's voice called out just behind me. I stiffened, wondering if my husband had witnessed Jake's transgression just a few moments before. Although we had known Jake for over 10 years, Wayne had always thought him to be a little flirtatious. I found Jake to be harmless- a scoundrel and rogue- but harmless nonetheless.

Marilyn had followed Jake inside. She was dressed for the weather in a navy overcoat with six gold buttons. It was expensive and so were her shoes. Before he could answer, the blonde fifty-ish woman began to apologize.

"Wayne, I'm sorry. You know he just gets like this when he comes to see the girls," she said with a slightly Southern accent. Jake ignored her and continued to try to impress everyone with his boyish charm.

"Marilyn, he'll never listen to you if you don't establish yourself as his leader," Wayne repeated patiently as if it were the first time he were telling her.

"I know, he just likes being the boss," she drawled as if it were the first time she were telling this to Wayne.

As they began to discuss Jake's transgressions and lack of manners, I winked at him and said, "Come on, old fella."

The chocolate Labrador Retriever bounded two steps until he was at my feet. Although he was beginning to gray around the edges of his eyes and his once deep brown muzzle was dipped in frosting now, he wagged his tail with the enthusiasm of a puppy. We walked together into the grooming area and he waited patiently as I maneuvered special doggy steps. Once in place, he carefully scaled the four plastic stairs until he was standing atop the black grooming table.

Happy that this new vantage put him closer to my face, his long tongue reached out and found its target faster than I could duck. I wiped my wet cheek onto the white sleeve of my shirt and began preparing my tools. Jake had come to be groomed at least once every month since he was a small puppy. He knew the routine and anticipated each move I made. Grasping the yellow slicker brush with its fine, short bristles, I began to remove the excess hair which seemed to find its way onto the rest of my clothes at a faster rate than it found its way into my brush.

After a while, the muscles of my arm began to cramp so I laid the yellow brush down and picked up the orange nail trimmers. I grasped Jake's paw and looked carefully at the nails nestled into the brown hair. Once again, I was concentrating too closely and let my guard down. I was rewarded with another wet kiss, this time on the opposite cheek. Again, I wiped my cheek with the long white sleeve of my shirt but less effectively as my shirt (and cheek) were now covered with both Jake's slobber and hair. Moving across each foot until every toenail was trimmed short, I began to brush Jake once more.

As the mound of hair at my feet grew to be larger than the cat who watched us from the counter top nearby, the brush began to remove less and less hair. Deciding that Jake could not spare to lose any more of his excessive coat, I moved him to the raised bathtub just beside the grooming table. Since the bathtub had been installed at my waist height, it was perfect for bathing dogs just like Jake.

I ran the water until it was warm and mixed a batch of Fresh and Clean suds. If anyone has ever had a Labrador, the one thing you may know well is that when a Lab gets a bath- everyone gets a bath. Doing my best imitation of Rub-a-dub-dub, Jake and I both got Fresh and Clean. I quickly used the forced air dryer to remove the extra water from his hair and placed him back onto the grooming table. Then, I began to blow his hair dry.

I imagine that George Clooney himself must look much like Jake getting his hair blown dry. Jake closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy the warm air and massage. After about one half an hour, Jake was mostly dry. I sifted through the drawer of fabric looking for a manly bandana to tie about his thick neck. I pushed aside Santa Claus, and Snowflakes, and the green holly leaf prints. There, a red plaid pattern caught my eye. I pulled it out and fitted it against his chocolate scruff. As I tied the triangle of fabric around his neck, I narrowly dodged another wet kiss. Stepping back, I surveyed my masterpiece- very distinguished indeed.

I selected a bottle of cologne from the back of the cabinet to my right. It was a tan plastic bottle with a musky smelling scent that reminded me of Old Spice. Across the label, the words "The Tramp" were printed. I spritzed Jake with a few strategic pumps of the bottle and he approved.

Soon, Jake's owner, Marilyn returned for him. She selected a plastic card from her wallet and handed it to Wayne as Jake placed his big paws onto the desk. Wayne offered him an obligatory disapproving glance as he reached down and patted Jake's shiny clean head. The credit card machine beeped and chirped its own little symphony and in a few moments, it spit out a white receipt. As Wayne bent over to tear the receipt from the top of the machine, he moved within striking distance and Jake's long tongue found its target.

As we watched Marilyn and our old friend Jake walk to the parking lot and get into their car, Wayne tousled my head and declared,  "Let's get you cleaned up, you look like a chocolate lab."