Thursday, May 3, 2012
Poor little Alvin! Last night I started trying to give Stevie her summer cut. I had barely turned the clippers on and Alvin went flying out the back door and refused to come back in. I could spot him out there circling to high heaven, and then repeatedly peeking in the door. I tried to lure him in with treats and he came in, then thought better of it and high tailed it back out the door. An hour later I could still hear his little toe nails clicking on the back patio as he continued to loop himself dizzy. He then finally came in, ran past me sitting on the couch, and ran directly into the bedroom to hide. The most unfortunate part about all of this is that his fur grows twice as fast as any dog I have had, and it seems as though I groom him and two weeks later, he needs another hair cut. I just don't have the heart to subject him to it more than once every six weeks, at the most because it truly terrifies him. Why of all dogs does he have to be the one with miracle hair, or to put it another way, the hair that grows at nearly the speed of light?