Dog Days

The cats lay motionless on the floor in front of the open doors.  Bessie Anne moved from place to place, flinging herself down, panting with the heat.  The weather had been so changeable, I'd hesitated to use the new clippers I'd bought, not wanting to have to knit a sweater for her if it got cold.  After our third trip out to her pool yesterday, that was it.  This is her "before" photo.  The leash was necessary because getting a haircut is not her favorite thing and the cord on the clippers is only so long.  Foot on the leash and clippers in hand, we began.  I honestly think she knew what was coming and was grateful.  This was the easiest clip-job I've ever done.  Bess lay still and let me work until the clippers got hot and my back gave out and I had to quit.

Yes, she needs another trim to even it up, but at least that heavy, thick, hot ruff over her shoulders is gone.  I never touch her head; there's only so much she can tolerate.  My dear girl is eleven years old, but she looks so darn cute with her summer "puppy cut."  Like any girl, she loves to be told how pretty she is (and I was laying it on thick), and fairly danced as we went out to put the kids to bed.

There was enough fur left over to make a good-sized Chihuahua.  I should probably name it.

It was a good day.