Thoughts on Haircuts

Jack at the Hairdresser

My mom likes it when I go to  the hairdresser to get my hair washed and cut. I understand why…I mean, when you’re the Pup of the Year, you have to look your very best. The ladies at the salon are really nice but usually they have to carry me in because I’m kind of nervous sometimes. I used to be small but now I’m big so I’m heavier…but I still love it when people pick me up.

When I go to scary places I lock my legs and carefully tiptoe to make sure it’s safe. But the nice ladies ease my fears, swoop me up and carry me safely in to the salon..and the next thing I know it, I’m a whole new pup with glistening clean hair. I can hardly contain my excitement when it’s time to leave the salon because 1) I look extremely handsome and 2) I’m so glad to be done with this slightly traumatic excursion.

Now that I have Lily as my sister, though, she gets to go with me. She’s brave so I feel more brave too. That’s how I feel about getting my hair done.

My Friend Earl

Earl and I have been pals for awhile now. I met him in Portland last winter (I wrote a post about it here) and he has been one of my most faithful and sturdy toys. Tug of war, flinging him across the room, digging my teeth into his skin…he’s been through it all and stayed by my side loving every minute of it. But I’m here to tell you about an unfortunate incident that happened recently. His foot is now no longer attached. I would go into depth about how it occurred, but I can truthfully say that I do not know the circumstances in how this happened. Could it have been Lily? Maybe. Could it have been the cat across the street that I’m terribly afraid of? Unlikely.

The fact of the matter is that we will never know…but what I DO know is that Earl and I are still friends despite the unfortunate foot amputation. And that’s what I call a good friend.

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