I mentioned yesterday that my dog was suffering from depression due to his ridiculously half-completed haircut. I thought I should explain how this came to pass.
Lewis is a Shih-Poo mix (half shih tzu/half poodle…emphasis on the ‘shit’, hehehe). I know, real mature.
He has very thick, curly black hair that grows like he’s the poster child for Rogaine. It’s obnoxiously kinky and tends to mat if not properly groomed.
Confession time here. We are the most neglectful parents.Lewis’ haircuts are so far and few between he typically struts around the house looking like a canine Rastafarian with dreads up the wazoo. Literally.
After his last trip to the groomers, wherein I was basically threatened that Lewis would be given “one more” chance to behave himself or would receive the old “86” Jer and I decided it would be prudent to keep his haircuts limited to home. Lewis doesn’t really mind it and has surprisingly been relatively tame through the entire process much unlike the frantic wailing he’s prone to do at the hands of a trained professional.
Because I’m not really into the ‘Rasta’ look I begged Jeremy to give him a bath and cut his hair before I had family over for dinner last Sunday. That’s right. Last Sunday.Approximately 5 days ago. I knew we didn’t have time for a full-fledged clipper fest so I requested that Jer only trim his face so that Lewis could actually use his eyeballs. (There’s nothing more painful than watching a dog who can’t physically move the hair out of his eyes but doesn’t fully understand that fact.)
So, Jer got a little carried away. Hair was flying all over the kitchen. Jer was manning those scissors with the flair of Vidal Sassoon himself. Which would havebeen fine if Jer had the time to complete the cut.
“Jer, you’re cutting off too much hair on his head.”
“No, I’m not. It’ll be fine. Besides, since his hair’s wet it looks like I’m cutting off more than I am.”
“No, seriously. When it dries it’ll look a little fuller.”
“Jer, that dog is rocking a virtual ‘fro’. It’s gonna shrink when it’s dry.”
“Mm hmm…we’ll see.”
Jer finished his faux-cut and headed toward the bathroom to blow-dry the dog. (Lewis shivers miserably unless he’s finished off with a hairdryer. It’s kind of a bonding moment between man and dog. And hairdryer.)
Moments later the dog came loping out of the bathroom, head hanging in shame. I immediately knew something was wrong given his normal post-drytendency to shoot out of the bathroom hell bent on racing around the house at speeds unnatural for an 8-pound shih-poo.
Not so this time. And this would be why.
Lewis looks like a depressed potato bug. A roly-poly as my daughter likes to call them. His head is tiny. His body is big. He looks ridiculous.
And Jer is responsible and has yet to rectify this shameful situation.
You may be asking yourself, “Now, why doesn’t Mindy just finish the haircut herself?”
Because Jer decided to criticize the last haircut I attempted to give the dog thereby sealing his fate that he will be the only one wielding scissors in this house. Ever.
So there you have it. I’m hoping that Jer will view this post, see the sadness lurking behind Lewis’ devoted little eyes and correct his error quickly.
A depressed Shih-poo does not a happy household make.