Not another trim!

She’s been at me again, my mum: forced me into the yard, made me stay still while she wielded those clippers like Excalibur!  It’s only five minutes since I was done – surely it’s not time yet?  I had chrysanthemum paws, she said, and I will be much happier with less fur in the sunshine.  Even skimmed off my leg feathers – though my tail survived untouched!  There was a great big pile of cuttings once she’d finished.

Admittedly, I have been a bit overheated outdoors on warm days but there is always our tiled hall to cool off on once we are back home.  And if I’m bushed when we are out I can usually find a shady spot to recover.


Look at how my gorgeous spots appear when I’m clipped really short!


Topped and tailed

She’s been at me with the scissors again – topped and tailed, she calls it – trimming my ears, toes and rear end.  Waited until we got back from the fields them ambushed me, got me between her knees and snip, snip, snip, my bum was nearly bare!  The tail got the treatment and my lugs.  My ears do get slobbery in the summer if they’re not trimmed cos  they end just about jaw level and in hot weather the hair gets bleached.  No chance this summer!

Some of the Springer Spaniels we see on the beach actually get shaved!  My mum doesn’t like that look – always keeps my tail and leg feathers and a bit of length on the ears.  She layers the hair on my ears so it goes curly like it did when I was a pup.

Good news: my broken claw is healed and growing again.

Oh no, a haircut!

    Home – oh goody I thought, back to normal (though I usually go to bootcamp at the weekend and this is the weekend…) and what happens?  She lures me into the yard then goes for the scissors – haircut!  I love being brushed – stops tangles growing in my feathers – but haircuts are a different matter cos I’m terrified she’ll slip with the scissors and cut me. And I have to stay still, face this way, face the other way, stand up, sit down – makes me dizzy.

Actually it wasn’t so bad – only my chest and rear end (which, quite frankly, was getting a bit rank through no swimming) and the bits sprouting out of my toes.  Then I was rewarded with a gambol down the street – not running, you understand, just a happy skip.  I love the front street – loads of doggy smells.

THE CAT sat on her knee and gave me some thunderous looks – you’d think she didn’t like me when all I want to do is be friends.  Should introduce her to the Irish aunt’s two, Missy and Stylo, who know how to behave with K9s.