Monday, May 7, 2012

. . . SIX BITS



Fuzzy Pup’s getting a haircut.   It’s gone on in three installments, beginning Saturday afternoon, and involving a pair of horse clippers (with no depth/length guide like the good WAHLs we’ve had for several years, and which provided a neat high-and-tight like from a military barbershop):





I’d had no idea we’d been harboring a walking equivalent of about a moo-hillion dandelions in the house, for the flying wisps of gold and white fluff were were lifting off into the wind from back door to garden gate, and settling on plants, cars, furniture, gazing balls and people in between. The whole back yard took on the floaty forest atmosphere of LEGEND---didn't you wonder how Tom Cruise could BREATHE for all that floof in the air?    From here to the arbor looked like early frost, until the rain set in again.



And in between clippings, there was a tub-bath, with good shampoo and rinsings and towelings and fla-fla-fla-flaaaap shakings and those dashing runs free in the breeze with a delight in his step occasioned only by a good bath and haircut. He gets so overjoyed he tries to meet himself coming back.

 
There was also a really raggedy, unfortunate look to the little fellow, like he’d just partially molted, and embarrassment had halted the process halfway through, with great clumps and valleys, and his whole belly the naked, shiny pink of baby pigs.


And even Caro took one look and asked, “Did you BLINDFOLD Chris before he went OUT THERE?”

So now he and Sweetpea and a resigned little dog are at it again, with flying floofs and big shorn spots, and his back like tan corduroy from the clipper-tracks.   Poor little guy.





Perhaps that’s what prompted Sweetpea to come running in just now, asking, “Where’s his COSTUME?” 



Me washing dishes:  “Whose costume?”---thinking innocently of Sock-Monkey, who wore a pair of Sweetpea’s tee-ninecy pants from babyhood and a little Pooh shirt to the soccer game and brunch on Saturday.



“FUZZY’S costume,” (in a tone of gentle regret for my backwardness)---“the PENGUIN ONE!”



Now, we haven’t had ANYTHING penguin in this house since that stuffed Opus that was gnawed to bits by another visiting GrandDog many years ago, so I had no idea where she got that---but I referred her back outside to Ganner.  Maybe she thought he'd get chilly, shorn to the skin and all.




And I’ll bet there’s enough fuzz on the patio table to knit another dog.

5 comments:

Jane and Lance Hattatt said...

Hello Rachel:
Please may we have the dog you knit with the waste floof. We have always wanted to own a dog but have only had live cats and stuffed toy dogs. Your knitted version from real dog fur would be a good introduction!!!!

Your dogs look very funny in the newly sheared state but we are sure that they feel the benefit of the short back and sides!

mississippi artist said...

He is very cute with his summer "do". When I had dogs that had to be sheared, I always thought they were a little embarresed at first-kind of like they were naked in front of everyone.

Southern Lady said...

Awww ... Bless his heart, Fuzzy Pup isn't fuzzy anymore, is he!

Beverly said...

Ah, he feels naked. But, he is still cute.♥

Kim Shook said...

Otis was a floofy, floofy dog. What no one told us was that pugs have no 'shedding season' - they just shed all the time. I could brush him for an hour and still be pulling out huge tufts of fur. Perhaps Fuzzy Pup is part pug?