Bad haircut

Every summer AlphaMale and AlphaFemale let some stranger hack at me with a noisy razor. Invariably the stranger makes me stand on a wobbly table, in a room full of other dogs shouting "Let me out of this pen so that I may romp!" The stranger then proceeds to poke me with the razor in all the places I don't want to be poked, and I lose all my hair. Then the stranger brushes me, which I kind of like, but then the worst part happens: the stranger clips my nails! Oh, I really really really hate this part, and I try to tell the stranger this, but they never listen. If the stranger is really clumsy sometimes I try to jump off the table, but then AlphaMale comes along and holds me in place and I just have to put up with it. When I'm on the stranger's table, getting poked, pulled and prodded, sometimes I wonder if AlphaMale and AlphaFemale really love me.

After I get the heck away from the stranger's torture chamber, I feel better. With my hair short I feel cooler, more wriggly, and I can run even faster. AlphaMale and AlphaFemale usually laugh at me and tell me I look funny. You can judge for yourself:




This was how I looked a few summers ago. Everyone thought the stranger did a good job that time, even if I looked like an elf.

But this summer's stranger with a razor didn't do such a good job. I spent the whole day in the stranger's room, with lots of shouty dogs, and I really hated it. The stranger wasn't very gentle, the dogs kept shouting things like "I tire of the smell of my own feces; free me from this hell!" and I got so upset I jumped off the table twice. When AlphaFemale came to pick me up I ran away from the stranger as fast as I could. AlphaFemale was so shocked that she took me home right away, without really looking at the state of my hair. And it was a bad state:




I look like a street dog, with mange, on a bad hair day. I've never felt so un-pretty in my whole life. People even stopped me in the park to ask if I was diseased or if AlphaMale or AlphaFemale had cut my hair themselves, using a broken weed-whacker with their eyes closed.



I looked like this for a week, until AlphaMale took me back to the stranger's place and made the stranger fix the job. This time he stayed with me, and I didn't like the whole process any more, but I came out looking a little more presentable. I even wagged my skinny tail a bit, after keeping it between my legs in shame for a whole week. Look out dog park, here comes skinny Bobo!