We Ain't No Turkeys, but We Wuz Plucked...

... and clipped and scissored and -- all in the name of handsome. Sure, Mom says it's important that we wirey guys (and gals) take good care of our furs to avoid health problems -- and we do like to look sharp -- but it's not something we -- especially me -- enjoy. That I can tell you.

Remember all that stuff a few days ago about gratitude??? Sure. Am I supposed to be grateful for being forced to have my jacket stripped and then the rest of me subjected to the clippers? And my paws? DON'T TOUCH MY PAWS!!! I don't think so. Even if it's true that Dogdad is kind and gentle and only plucks the parts that don't hurt (too much), I do not like it. Not one bit.

Accordingly, I have a carefully developed avoidance strategy. Ask Mom. She'll tell you.

Usually we groom Jakey first. He doesn't seem to mind -- even though his fur is woolier and takes longer to do. He's a much more stoic dog, But when JH sees any of the "instruments of torture," i.e., comb, furminator, brush, clippers, scissors -- he disappears. So when Jack was ready for JH and we called him in a normal voice, no answer. I added a usually irresistible "treats for dogs" to the call. Still no answer.

So I began to search: Pillows under the chair by the window in the breakfast room? Bed next to the red chair in the corner of the living room? Comfy pad under the coffee table by the couch? Middle stair? Jakey's crate under the stairs (which Jake never uses and JH has adopted as his private retreat)? No sign of errant terrier.

But then, one more possibility: Next to Jakey's crate is a second crate in which JH eats his meals. In desperation, I looked in there and saw him huddled as far back in the corner of the crate, behind his food bowl, as he could get! Poor baby.

We didn't want to trick him, so Jack let out his traditional "Calling all dogs, Please report to the East Gate for your evening walk." That truly is irresistible. Off he went with Jake and JH and when they came back, the jig was up for one young WFT. Once the grooming has begun, though, he accepts it without much fuss-- except for the paws part.

Well, I got through it -- and I have to admit, I don't miss all that curly stiff around my face and the long black fur down my back. Yesterday we had a photo shoot outside and as you can see, I have my polka dots back -- and my brother can see again.

He consoled me for all my fears and told me to be on the look out for anything unusual in the neighborhood .Not so bad, I guess.

After we satisfied the folks' thirst to record our striking looks, Jake let me sit on his bench for awhile to chill. (It's truly Jake's Bench. Often when we come back from a walk, Jakey will jump on the bench to sit for awhile, catching the smells on the air and observing what's going on. JH never does that

Later, I settled down with my red rooster to ponder a new strategy.

And since Jake was so cool with me, letting me share his bench and explaining how to deal with life's apparent inevitabilities, I let him settle with one of the other toys I choose to call my own. Not that I want him to get used to too much brotherly love or anything... but it is the start of the holiday season and all that!!

Just Harry