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Sunday, April 1, 2012

Hairy, Snaggly Paw-pits

Harley does what he wants.

You may not know him, so you may not know that, therefore it needed to be made clear.

I can't say that Harley has 'fur' because his 'hair' gets tangled and matted, almost like dreadlocks, if I don't brush or comb him daily.

And I'm not too good at remembering to do that. So his fur/hair was tangled under his little armpits. Or pawpits. Legpits. Whatever.

So I traipsed on down to WalMart and bought clippers so I could cut his fur because I can't get a groomer appointment for another 2 weeks. I thought, "I've cut his hair with scissors before, so clippers should be easier."

Sure, they are.

First, he doesn't like me doing anything like cleaning him.

Second, he doesn't like getting his hair cut.

He also doesn't like having his eyes or ears cleaned.

He doesn't like getting his toenails cut.

He likes to be a piglet.

So he certainly didn't like it when I busted out the clippers.

My hand went numb from all the buzzing.

It's hard to hold a wiggly little dog in one hand and a buzzing clipper in the other.

I could hardly get at his pawpits.

He looks like I took a WeedWhacker to him.

My poor little boy.

He got mad, he snarled, he cried, he flipped backwards and sideways, he did everything. He tucked up his legs, he twisted, he squirmed, he gave kisses. Eventually he gave up and leaned sideways and ignored me. Still, it is too difficult to clip or snip dog fur when they are not cooperative.

Look at that flip of hair in the picture. You should see his beard, in person. One side of his face is longer than the other. His paws are snipped so closely, they look like twigs. You can see his pink skin. All the fur on his face sticks out at unnatural angles. I want to use hair gel to make it smooth down.

The whole procedure was so difficult. Harley eventually just snuggled into me, much like a hedgehog. He is a smart dog. I can't untuck him with one hand and keep him spread-eagled while trying to wield a clipper or scissors with the other hand.

His poor hair.

We gave up on the clippers.

I took him to the bathtub, where I took out the scissors and started snipping.

I want to grow his fur. I want him to look like one of those beautiful, long-hair-freely-flowing Maltese that hop around and look like they are so carefree.

Harley hops around and he is carefree. But if his hair is long, he will not be carefree because he will be in pain from the tangles and snaggles in his pawpits. That's no good.

It's not like he is deprived of anything - he gets EVERYTHING. He has more shirts, sweaters, jackets, harnesses, leashes, toys and treats than even I can find on most days. He even has a different collar for every day of the week, and each collar has its own name tag so I don't have to be switching them around.

C'mon, the boy has gear. He is used to being groomed, just not by me.

He looks rough now. He wouldn't look at me last night. He's ok today so he must have forgotten about the haircut trauma. Poor dog.

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