Stress-Free at the Groomer — The Journey There (Part 1)
- May 26
- 5 min read
This contribution comes from Alexandra Schlömmer — certified Cooperative Care Trainer and Fear Free Grooming expert from beautiful Austria. We are delighted to share her work with you here and would like to thank her warmly — she is making an important contribution to a topic that is close to all our hearts. This piece is meant to inspire reflection and remind us how important it is to perceive the world through the senses of our dogs — especially when it comes to something that is such a burden for so many dogs: the trip to the groomer.
Honestly: for us humans, a visit to the hairdresser is usually pure relaxation. We lean back, enjoy the head massage, and have a little chat. For dogs, however, the world looks very different on the grooming table — what might seem like a treat can quickly become a genuinely stressful situation.
The tricky part: dogs communicate constantly in these situations. They send clear stress signals — but we humans often overlook them or misread them entirely. When a dog on the table suddenly pants heavily, repeatedly licks its lips, yawns anxiously, or trembles, it is not simply being difficult — it is overwhelmed. And even a dog that freezes completely still is not cooperating quietly — it has shut down.
In Part 1 of this series, we would like to take you on a little journey of perspective and look at the salon visit through the eyes, ears, and nose of our four-legged friends — completely unfiltered.
The good news upfront: it doesn't have to be this way! Fear Free Grooming is not magic — it is a wonderful concept based on Cooperative Care and Low Stress Handling. It helps dogs learn, in a playful way, to voluntarily participate in grooming — or at least to get through it calmly with the help of some truly excellent treats.
How exactly that works will be covered in Part 2 in July. For today, we let the dogs speak for themselves. What might dogs say about their salon visit if they could talk? A little glimpse into a rather eventful dog world…
When I jumped into my box in the car, I was excited. This could only mean that my mom and I were going on an outing! After a short drive, we arrived at a parking lot — but there was no forest like usual. Instead, we walked into a shop. Maybe we were going to buy treats?
While my mom and an unfamiliar person talked to each other in the shop, I used the time to sniff around. It smelled strongly of shampoo and conditioner in here — I knew those scents from home. But on top of that, there were confusingly many smells from other dogs, and some of them smelled strangely of stress and fear. That puzzled me and made me uneasy. Where exactly was I?
Suddenly, my mom said goodbye to me, stroked my floppy ear the way she always did when leaving, and said: "See you soon, my sweetheart!" The door clicked shut, and she was gone. The unfamiliar person came toward me, said something I unfortunately couldn't understand, and wanted to lift me up. I looked away and crouched down to let him know I was uncomfortable. I tried to run to the door to find my mom, but he grabbed me quickly and placed me in a metal tub. I made myself small, tucked my tail, blinked, and licked my lips — but he didn't understand what I was trying to tell him. And just like that, I was being sprayed with water, the hose hissing loudly — quite a shock! I held still out of fear and hoped it would be over soon.
The person lifted me out of the tub and placed me on a table, then fastened a strap around my neck and another around my belly. I knew this kind of table from the vet's office, and I had no good memories of it. I wanted to jump down to the floor, but I couldn't — the straps held me back. I could barely move my head or body.
Suddenly, a deafening noise started up, a strong blast of air blew through my fur, and the person began brushing me. It hurt — it pulled at my coat — and the noise in my ears was almost unbearable. Now I was truly frightened, and I began to tremble and pant. Surely he would notice some sign from me! But he kept going.
At last he switched off the dryer and stopped brushing. I hoped so much that it was over and that I would be allowed off the table. While I looked toward the door to see if my mom was finally coming back, the person suddenly touched me with a loud, vibrating machine. I recognized the sound — my dad has one too, he uses it to shave his stubble. The person moved the machine back and forth through my fur, and clumps of hair fell to the floor. I was so scared, it was so unpleasant, I wanted to flee. I whimpered and wriggled, pulled my paws away and lifted my legs to avoid the thing. But it was no use — the straps prevented it. The person held one leg after another firmly in place and carried on.
At last he switched the thing off and stepped away from me. What a relief — finally over! Surely my mom would come and pick me up now. But instead of her, the person came back — holding a pair of scissors.
He began cutting the fur on my tail. Since my head was fixed in place, I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but I could feel something happening back there. Then he moved to the front, toward my head. He took my muzzle firmly in his hand and trimmed the fur around my face. I tried to pull my head free, but he was stronger and held it in place. When he finally let go, I noticed my legs had barely any strength left. All of this had been going on for so long — I was deeply stressed and frightened, exhausted, and unable to think clearly.
But I still had to stand on the table. Now he had a clipper in his hand, took one of my front paws, and placed it against one of my nails. My front paws are sacred to me — not even my mom is allowed to just touch them like that! This was too much. I stared him in the eyes, pinned my ears forward, and showed him my teeth. I was warning him, telling him as clearly as I possibly could that I couldn't take any more. But he moved on to the next paw. I pulled it away and growled at him, but he only held my paw more firmly and said loudly: "No, hold still!" This went on until he had clipped the nails on all four paws.
And then — finally! He undid the straps around my neck and belly and lifted me down from the table. All I wanted was to escape. I ran to the door, crouched down, looked away from him, and hoped my mom would get me out of there quickly. When she actually walked in, the relief was overwhelming. I jumped up, barked, and pressed myself against her. She looked completely happy and said: "Oh, you're all clean now and have such a lovely haircut!"
My mom paid and asked the person how it had gone. He sighed, a little wearily, and said: "He was pretty wriggly, didn't want to stay still, and made quite a fuss. We may need to be a bit stricter next time."
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