Heather's Country Clips Small Dog Grooming

08/15/2026

If you want to be guaranteed a specific time and day its not too early for my regular clients to book their Christmas groom appointment!

02/17/2026

02/15/2026

We have some information for ALL dog owners, kennel owners, dog sitters, and others who have just purchased or adopted a puppy.

Spring, summer and fall were "Parvo" months. Some animal care people have prayed for a Winter like we have had to kill off some parasites and diseases.

NOT this year! Parvo is hitting puppies and adult dogs all around us and the expense to saving these puppies is enourmous, especially in a rescue or shelter.

We all need to take precaution ... Don't let puppies 6 weeks (or younger) to 6 months, adults who have no known history of vaccines, and all dogs who have not had their vaccines intentionally by their owners Play in parks (dog park or otherwise), don't let them near wildlife or hang out where other dogs/puppies and wildlife play.

Parvo is rearing its ugly head and it is expensive to treat. Treatment usually takes hospitalization, IV fluids, antibiotics and more.

This link has great information on Parvo from a medical stand point from the Ontario Animal Health Network .

Please, if you know your pup or dog has parvo OR your Cat or Kitten has Panleukopenia, stay away from shelters, stores where other people bring their pets, family members that have furry friends. You could be carrying the disease on your clothing!

https://www.oahn.ca/resources/parvovirus-dog-owners/

SimcoeDHumane has 17 puppies in care. Some have been in distant contact with a now known positive puppy.

Your donation today will help save these puppies if they too become positive for Parvo.

Thanks again to our community or village. You are our support and you give us the strength to get through these times.

01/19/2026

Had to share this 💓

I can't count how many times, now, my trusted vets and I have stood opposite each other of an exam table, both looking at one of my dogs, and discussed what "quality of life" really looks like.

On a scale of joy, the determinants vary with each soul in question.

I've had to say goodbye to dogs who have lost their vision. Their world grows dark and their new hindrance leaves them confused and afraid. You give them time to adjust, provide comfort and direction, but their joy is gone as they fail to find all the things they used to love. Quality of life doesn't have to be a complete body failure, sometimes it's just the loss of their most precious sense that leaves them as just a shell of who they used to be.

I've had to say goodbye to dogs in kidney failure. The constant plea to get them to eat, coupled with a consistent need for medication and fluids starts to create a hesitation on their face where they were once so happy to see you. Pushing pills and poking simply to try and buy more time can create a much more stressful end to a life well-lived than it has to be. Sometimes it's okay to just offer peace.

I've had to say goodbye to dogs with heart disease. You find yourself sitting on the couch with two gentle fingers on the inside of their back leg, counting heartbeats and feeling the irregularities. You know you have to get them to take their medication, but their condition makes them feel terrible and they don't want to eat anymore. Their breathing becomes labored and you know the doctor told you there was fluid present around their heart, but you can't get them to eat their hidden medication in every food source you can think of and forcing the pills creates a coughing fit that makes you feel even worse than you already did. Sometimes it's okay to simply manage the best you can and give yourself some grace when neither you, or they, can conquer that battle anymore.

Seizures, cancer, collapsing trachea, liver disease and mobility issues. No matter the ailment, no matter the story, the ending has never changed. There are times I had held on too long because my own heart wasn't ready, selfishly asking a failing body to keep trying. One thing I tell myself, and have repeated to friends, family, and my vet; is that it's okay to pull your beloved pet off the tracks when you see the train coming. You aren't required to wait for the big crash.

You don't have to wait until it's the worst day they've had to make a decision, and I encourage you not to when you know they are fighting a losing battle. If there is anyone who needs to hear this, please know that you do NOT love your pet any less if you decide to offer mercy when you see their little light start to dim. You do NOT love them less if you can't afford a myriad of specialty and university vets or the rabbit hole of diagnostic testing. It's okay to simply love them until the end. That's all they want from you, anyways. Just to be by their side until they take their final breath.

I took a final walk today with Sissy, just the two of us. It was quiet and peaceful and she sniffed around and followed me faithfully as I took slow steps to match hers. As I explained Sissy's struggle to breathe lately to Dr. Hegg, I brought up our walk and commented on how alert and happy she was in that moment. He responded, "Isn't it good you'll be able to remember her that way?" And it is. I didn't wait until Sissy was completely unable to breathe or find her passed away through the night and wonder if she suffered. I get to look back and know she still had it in her to take a final walk with me, and I'll choose that memory every time.

Loving old dogs has come with a lot of "heart practice" and ability to find the strength to make some really hard decisions. While I am always thankful for the ability to provide care, I am also thankful for the ability to prevent suffering. Loving them enough to say goodbye when it's time is the last gift we can give them.

01/05/2026

If anyone would like to help My boy Myles out on his quest to become a cover model I'd appreciate it! You can vote daily!

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1BB3KRXT6L/

Myles is my heart dog, my backpacking partner, my farm helper and my neck warmer. My best friend and soul mate.

12/24/2025

As 2025 comes to an end, I celebrate my cherished clients for trusting me with your dog's grooming needs, holding each of you in high esteem. Here, you're part of a meaningful relationship. May 2026 bring you unparalleled joy and success.
See you all in January 2026!

12/04/2025

Sharing this from a rainbow bridge page. Many of my clients have said good bye to a cherished pet this past year. 💓

The Christmas That Broke Me Wasn’t the First One Without My Dog… It Was the First One They Forgot He Existed.

My heart didn’t break the day my dog crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
It didn’t even break when I packed away his toys or when I washed his last blanket.

No.

My heart broke on a December morning, staring at a cheerful Christmas invitation that didn’t mention him at all.

My name is Margaret. I’m 76 years old, living alone in a quiet condo in the suburbs of Chicago, and I want to tell you about the Christmas that almost shattered me — not because of my dog’s death, but because of how quickly the world moved on from him.

The world forgets pets quickly.
But grief doesn’t.

For twelve wonderful years, Christmas at my house belonged to Buddy — my golden retriever with the jingle-bell collar and the tail that knocked over every decoration I owned.

He was the heart of my holidays.
He was my noise, my purpose, my morning alarm, my reason to smile.

And when my husband Frank died, Buddy stayed.
He stayed when the kids moved out.
He stayed when the house got quieter and the winters felt longer.

He stayed until he couldn’t.

This year was my first Christmas truly alone.

A week before the 25th, my daughter Jessica texted:
“Mom, you’re welcome to come over Christmas afternoon if you want!”

Afternoon.
If you want.
No mention of Buddy. No, “We miss him too.”
No space for the soft ache I carry every single day.

I typed back:
“Sounds lovely! I’ll bring something sweet.”

Because that’s what grieving pet parents do —
we hide our heartbreak so we don’t sound dramatic about “just a dog.”

Christmas morning came.
For the first time in twelve years, there was no wet nose nudging my hand.
No jingling collar.
No warm weight at my feet.

My home was clean. Too clean.
His stocking hung up because I couldn’t bear to put it away.

I made a single cup of coffee and sat in a living room decorated for a little soul who would never knock over my tree again.

And the silence — God, the silence — felt like it was swallowing me whole.

Around noon, I drove.
I passed houses with cars stacked in driveways, kids running outside, and dogs wearing little red sweaters.

Every window I looked through showed a family — complete.

And I realized something about losing a pet:

People expect you to move on long before your heart is ready.
They think grief ends when the pawprints fade.
They forget the way your entire world tilts when a furry angel leaves it.

When I arrived at Jessica’s house at 4PM, the noise hit me like a wave.
Kids laughing. Dogs barking. The smell of roast in the oven.

Her dog, Milo, ran to the door wagging his tail.

Everyone said, “Merry Christmas!”
But no one said Buddy’s name.
No one asked how I was doing without him.
No one remembered the piece of my heart that didn’t make it to December.

I smiled.
I ate the cold turkey.
I laughed when it was appropriate.

But inside, it felt like Buddy died all over again — because the world had moved on, and I hadn’t.

On the drive home, the truth settled in my bones:

Losing a pet isn’t just losing “an animal.”
It’s losing the one soul who made you feel like the center of someone’s universe.
And the hardest part is grieving alone, while everyone else goes on like nothing changed.

So if you know someone who lost a pet this year, please hear me:

Call them.
Say their pet’s name.
Ask for a memory.
Acknowledge the empty space beside them.

Don’t assume they’re “fine.”
Don’t assume they’ve “healed.”

Because someday, you’ll understand:

The greatest gift you can give someone who lost a pet…
is simply remembering that their love never died.