22/10/2026
I’ve stolen this from another groomer but this is spot on.
On paper, we were running a high-turnover machine. In reality, we were barely surviving by the skin of our teeth
We were in the salon at 7:00 AM and often didn't walk out until 5:00 PM—and on late-night Thursdays, not until 8:00 PM. Then came the evenings: endless messages, rescheduling, bookwork, and phone tag until our eyes burned.
There were nights I came home and literally had to sit on the couch icing my hands and wrists just so I’d have enough mobility to pick up scissors and work the next morning.
During one peak season, Chris developed a painful ganglion cyst on his wrist. But in a high-volume salon, the conveyor belt doesn't stop. You can't take two weeks off to heal. You just bandage it, take some painkillers, grit your teeth, and keep lifting 30kg dogs onto tables.
👉 Swipe to the first photo: That’s me after a massive week of cupping, physiotherapy, and chiropractic adjustments. My body was so physically broken from the relentless, repetitive strain of lifting and handling dogs that I literally couldn’t take a deep breath. Like so many groomers, I just patched myself up to go back and do it all over again.
👉 Swipe to the second photo: This is one of the hardest things for me to look back on. That is my second baby, only one day old. I had absolutely no maternity leave, no safety net, and no choice. I was back in the salon the very next day, holding clippers in one hand and cradling my newborn in the other while working on a table.
Most pet parents have no idea of the physical toll this craft takes.
They drop off their beloved companion, and a couple of hours later, they pick up a clean, fluffy, sweet-smelling dog with a cute bandana.
They don't see the reality behind the door:
• The sheer physical strength it takes to safely hold a 35kg squirming dog on a table without hurting them.
• The repetitive micro-movements of thousands of scissor snips that slowly grind down tendons and nerves.
• The hours leaning over hydrobaths breathing in damp heat, drying dander, and standing on concrete floors.
• The mental adrenaline of handling sharp razor-sharp steel around moving tongues, ears, and eyes.
When I see people in local community groups posting, "Looking for a cheap dog groomer," my heart genuinely aches for those groomers.
Because a "cheap groomer" isn't someone who found a magic shortcut.
Almost always, they are passionate, hard-working people who are burning their bodies into the ground for survival wages.
They are the ones taking on the severely matted dogs that take hours of painstaking detangling.
They are taking on the reactive, biting dogs that need immense physical containment.
They are dealing with owners who cancel last-minute without a deposit.
And for what?
At the end of a 10-year career, their joints are worn out, their backs are blown, they have zero superannuation saved for retirement, and they can’t even afford a reliable car, all because they were terrified that if they charged what their labor was actually worth, people would walk away.
We had to hit our own breaking point before we realized: our bodies are not disposable.
Grooming is a high-skill, high-risk trade. Respecting your craft means understanding that charging properly isn't about being greedy, it’s about having a sustainable career where your body still works when you’re 50, where you can afford superannuation, and where you aren't forced to rush through 10-20 dogs a day just to pay rent.
To every pet owner who values our calm space, respects our pricing, and trusts us with their dogs: thank you. You allow us to groom with patience, care, and unhurried safety.
And to every groomer reading this who went home tonight with swollen wrists and an ice pack on their joints: please know your craft, your time, and your health are worth so much more than survival rates.
You don't have to break your body to earn a living.
