It’s not really a good idea to cut your kid’s hair yourself. You never know which way they’re going to move and whether or not you’ll jab them with the scissors, make a crooked cut, or snip off the end of their ear accidentally. Lucky for me, Darling cuts her own hair. I’ll bet Rufus is wishing he could cut his own hair right about now, too.
The trouble with being born a dust mop is that people don’t know when you’re coming or going. Indeed, there are days when you, yourself, are unsure which is your front end and which is your back. City Boy and the kids got tired of petting Rufus’s head and finding out it was his tail. Rufus got tired of chasing squirrels backwards. So they decided it was time for him to see a hair dresser.
I fired Rufus’s hair dresser. She kept clipping him like he was a Tibetian Spaniel, or perhaps that’s a terrier? Either way, long ears. Rufus, aka Homeland Security, is a Shih Tsu cross and should have little ears, not long stringy ears. I had no choice in the matter, really. Besides which, Rufus loves the feel of the wind in his long locks and will stand out there, nose pointing directly into the windstorm just to give us the full effect of his studly beauty.
Somehow, Rufus has become a safe haven for all the fleas in the county. Why, just as Jack Frost begins to get a firm grip on the land, the fleas have chosen my poor puppy as a winter meal I have no clue. But deep down in those now matted locks is an infestation of blood sucking, egg laying, six legged beasts that are making my poor Mr. Fluffy Pants miserable.
This morning, since I was awake and the rest of the household was asleep, I decided to remedy the situation. I snagged City Boy’s good kitchen scissors (they’re the sharpest, after all) and plopped Rufus down in front of me. If I can shear a sheep, I ought to be able to give the dog a hair cut, right? So I set straight to work. I had visions of Edward Scissorhands as Rufus’s hair flew up into the air past my face before landing in a pile beside him. He laid there completely relaxed, rolling over onto his back and exposing himself in a most obscene manner, even for a little dog.
I snipped and sheared and cut away, sculpting a fantasy in my mind of what my little Shih Tsu cross would look like when I was done.
Fantasies seldom work out in real life.
Rufus is embarrassed…he’s refusing to allow any photography…
Read Full Post »