Like many mischievous little boys, Spriggy doesn’t go to the barber any more than he has to. He normally doesn’t see the groomer until later in the spring, but they had an opening and the day was warm; who doesn’t believe they’d be better off with less clothing on a fair day?
The weather has since turned chillier. Bad idea.
Still, every haircut reveals a new dog. We see, once again, that he’s no show specimen — his head is too large for his body. His ears seem to get larger every year. (Once upon a time they folded over in cute little triangles; now he’s Yoda Boy.) Sometimes he sprouts new spots that go away during the next Furry Period. This time they cut his eyebrows down, so his eyes look bigger and his face more vulnerable. Needless to say, he is workin’ that for all the cheese nibbles and peanut-butter bread crusts he can.
At least he’ll be suitable to greet this weekend’s company. Any suggestions on what I should make for dinner? I’m stumped.
Bob Caylor, mentioned in the Jim Barbieri piece below, weighed in today with his own appreciation, shorter than mine and more affectionate. Recommended: As the wide world judges a man, he may have been a relentlessly agitated fish in too small a pond. But Bluffton was better off for his devotion.