Dog grooming intake form: the ten questions that get you paid

A new client's first appointment is where most money problems are born. She found you, she sounded lovely on the phone, and you booked Bella for Thursday — with no card on file, no signed policies, and no idea Bella is a matted doodle who hasn't seen a brush since spring. New clients are also your riskiest no-shows: they've never met you, so skipping the appointment feels like skipping a restaurant reservation, not standing up a person. A good dog grooming intake form fixes nearly all of this before you ever pick up a clipper. It's ten questions and two consents, it takes a client about three minutes on their phone, and it's the difference between having policies and having policies that count.

What a dog grooming intake form should ask

Resist the urge to build a novel. Every extra question costs you completions, and an unfinished form protects nobody. Ten questions cover it:

• Owner basics (3): name, email, and — worded exactly like this — "best number for appointment texts." That phrasing gets you the cell they actually read, which is where your reminders will live.
• Dog basics (3): name, breed, and age/weight. Weight matters for pricing; age flags seniors who may need shorter sessions.
• Health and history (3): vet name with rabies expiration date, any medical issues (seizures, allergies, heart conditions, past grooming reactions), and any bite or snap history. You're not being nosy — you're the one holding the scissors.
• The honesty question (1): "When was Bella's last full groom?" The answer tells you more about Thursday's workload than the breed does, and it opens the matting conversation before the dog is on your table instead of during.

Then two consents: a matting release (severe matting may require a shave-down, dog's comfort comes first, additional fee applies) and photo permission for your socials. Skippable? Sure. Until the one day they're not.

The two lines on the intake form that actually get you paid

Here's where most forms stop short. Contact details and vet records protect the dog; these two lines protect the business. First, a policy acknowledgment — one sentence that turns your cancellation policy from a sign on the wall into something this specific client agreed to, in writing, with a date on it. Second, card-on-file consent, so the fee in that policy is collectable instead of theoretical.

Run the napkin on what those two lines are worth. Say your full groom is $85 and you take on four new clients a month. If just one new client a month no-shows — and new clients are the likeliest to — that's $85 × 12 = $1,020 a year in empty table time. With signed consent, a 50% fee claws back $510 of it, and more importantly, most of those no-shows stop happening at all, because a card on file makes an appointment feel like a commitment instead of a suggestion. One note of caution: never collect card numbers on a paper form. Use a proper payment link or your booking software's vault — paper and card numbers should never meet.

Send it before they're standing in your doorway

Timing is the whole game. The intake form goes out the moment you book, in the confirmation text: "Can't wait to meet Bella! Quick favor — here's our new-client form, takes about three minutes: [link]. Once that's in, you're all set for Thursday at 10." A form filled out calmly on a couch gets honest answers and a real signature. A clipboard shoved at someone juggling a leash and a wiggling doodle gets scribbles — and an unread policy acknowledgment isn't worth the paper it's rushed onto.

There's a quiet bonus: the form is a commitment filter. Someone who spends three minutes telling you about Bella's ear sensitivity has mentally arrived at the appointment already. And if the form isn't back within a day or two, that's your early warning — a friendly nudge ("Just need that form to lock in Thursday!") either gets it done or tells you the slot was shaky, while there's still time to fill it from your waitlist.

One last thing worth noticing: the intake form only protects clients who actually got as far as booking. The new client who called at 2pm while you were elbow-deep in a blowout — the one whose call went to voicemail and who booked with the salon across town instead — never met your beautiful form. That's the gap the front desk covers: every missed call gets a text back within seconds, the booking happens, and the form goes out on time. The paperwork can't work if the phone doesn't.