Smudge here again - just keeping you posted on my thrilling week.
Basically it consisted of one long hair cut.
The Reluctant Dog Owner likes to prune me. Yes, literally - she takes a pair of scissors to me and trims me. Over the course of several days. I am a canine rose bush.
Now I know I have a tendency to be a hairy chap - but at this time of the year, I rather like my long flowing locks.
A - I look shaggy and shaggable, and
B - it keeps a fella warm you know. One's nether regions don't need to be bald and chilly of a winter's day.
This is me sporting the winter fashion - a longer fur look. I quite like it.
That cold white stuff on the ground that keeps coming and going sets my paws on edge, and it does rather stick to my coat - but it's such fun to play and roll around in.
But I can tell when the Reluctant Dog Owner is about to get snipping. She sidles up to me, all sweet talking and tickles that lovely place just behind my right ear and I'm sold. All hers. I can't help myself - I lie down, and go into a dozy trance of ecstasy and that's when she launches with a pair of very sharp scissors. Or sometimes she sneaks into a cupboard when The Boss is not looking, and borrows his human electric buzzy trimming clippers. She does clean it afterwards (sort of).
Now, it must be said - that I have been sent to the official Dog Groomers' on two occasions. And both visits are burned into my memory.
The first time, well, the scalping that ensued, and the unforgivable laughter at my expense when I returned was one humiliation too many. The humans literally fell about with mirth. I have never felt so small in my life - nor looked it, in fact. They even had the audacity, as they sniggered through their fingers, to say I looked like a - god, it chokes me to say it - like a poodle. Oh, the shame. (Mind you, I did smell pretty gorgeous - that conditioner is fantastic).
The second visit was traumatic. I was staying with another family during a very hot summer - and they apparently had permission to take me for another hair cut. That groomer was brutal - not only did she manage to make me feel naked, but she actually nicked my balls with the razor! She drew blood. My tackle was attacked. Apparently "most dogs his age have had them removed". Hey Lady, next time check the equipment!
So not only did I look daft, but I was in great pain too. Another week of utter humiliation on my part because then I was trussed up in one of those ridiculous white cones things so I couldn't even lick my itchy bits! That bitch.
So now - the Reluctant Dog Owner has taken it upon herself to keep me ship shape and tidy. And I have to confess, I quite like it really. She doesn't scalp me (very often), I remain all intact and it's like having your own personal hairdresser on tour with you.