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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

 I’ve found a dog grooming salon for Nell. It’s called ‘Best Buddies’ and what I like about it is they seem to have a lot of cockapoo clientele. Here, I thought, is a lady who knows how to wrangle wild fur. Nell’s fur is more spaniel silky than poodle curly but she has definite waves and thickness to her coat and will need regular clipping appointments throughout her life. I’d rather have that than be constantly scraping moulted fur off furniture/clothes/ rugs though. The grooming lady, it turns out is very popular (another good sign) and the earliest appointment she could offer for Nell’s First Official Hairdo is 23rd May. We are booked in! However, until then there is the issue of wild fur obscuring eyesight. 

This is what I mean:


Nell three days ago. More fluff than eyes. I noticed, too, that when we have our early morning race up and down the garden after tennis balls and frisbees, that she was sometimes stopping mid-gallop to work out where the tennis balls in particular went. Something needed to be done. Something involving a pair of scissors and a steady hand. And a puppy that wasn’t on wriggle mode. 

Yesterday, therefore, I purchased a pair of bull-nosed dog grooming safety scissors. I mean, what could go wrong with a pair of bull-nosed doc grooming safety scissors? I thought, right - I’ll get all her combs and brushes out and when she is engaged in chewing the end off one of those, I’ll make a stealthy advance, like a Ninja Vidal Sassoon. She actually doesn’t mind being brushed once she knows what’s going on. And as long as she has something to dismember. It’s only a small step ‘twixt being brushed and having a bit of a hair cut around the eyes. 

Thus she became very intent on gnawing at the slicker brush handle. And I moved in. A little snip here. A little snip there. No eyeballs were punctured. No blood loss incurred (from either party). 

Et voilá! 


She can see again!! Yes, she looks disgruntled because I took away the brush she was gnawing the end off. And yes, she has a wet chin because she’s just had a drink of water. And no, she doesn’t look like the school photo of my son, aged 7, when he decided the night before his annual photo to take a pair of scissors to his fringe, thereby creating the new mode for asymmetric (and rather unflattering) hair cuts. 

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