Pupper hates the blow dryer, and with his thick fur, it would take a lot more strength and perseverance than this one Mommy has to hold him still long enough to dry him. What this means is that in the winter (when going outside with wet fur could kill) Pupper gets bathed a) by the professionals when he gets his every-8-weeks haircut; or b) not at all. I suppose we could take him to the groomer in between, but do you realize it costs more for one Pupper trip to the hairdresser than it costs for M and I both to have our hair done! [Funny side note: the salon where we have our hair done moved about a year ago, and in its old storefront is the groomer where Pupper now goes.]
Enter a glorious day in March when the temps are pushing 70 and the Pupper is due for a good bathing (because of his skin he can only have a bath every four weeks or so). Pupper doesn't fight his baths, but he certainly makes it clear through body language just how little he likes it. Think of it as a massive dose of cockapoo resignation. When the bath is over:we are not sure how much we like Mommy right now.
But my, how curly.You can certainly see the poodle in his gene pool there.
A few hours and good comb out later, a clean, shiny, soft Pupper is ready for his closeup. Would you prefer serious:
Perhaps a more contemplative full-body look:My he does stack well, doesn't he?
Yes, I hauled the Adirondack chairs and table onto the driveway (lawn is still waaaay to wet/muddy/snowy for comfortable sun worshipping). What you can't see in the pic is the small piece of cotton which the arm of the chair tore from my second-favorite pair of jeans. I know, some people pay many dollars to have someone else rip their jeans for them, when all they really need is an old piece of lawn furniture.
And now for the saddest "person" in our whole tiny village:In the middle of that circle there, on what is decidedly the WRONG side of our neighbor's window is her cat, Sam. Sam is the cat-about-town in these parts. I have mentioned we live in the center of town, and this cat manages to get around. He visits the post office, the inn, the town hall, the library, and a few houses around, too. He's been seen as far away as the church (a little over 1/4 mile down the street) and the old schoolhouse (around 1/4 mile in the other direction). Everyone knows Sam.
Unfortunately for Sam, however, he spent a night away from home a couple weeks ago and got into a tussle with something. Who knows what happened to the other guy, but Sam came home with a gash on his head and a series of bite wounds on his "arm". Nothing serious, and he's well on the way to recovery. Unfortunately, the vet has recommended that Sam-About-Town stay inside for ... wait, anyone who knows outdoor cats will love this ... 45 days! Wonder what kind of drugs he's suggesting prescribing to get the Mommy through this ordeal.
One more picture to leave you with. I've mentioned the view. Well, it's not the best time of year to see is in all its glory, but this'll give you some idea:Just imagine it with the trees and fields all greened-out. After that happens, you won't be able to see the place where they make the candles which is visible if you look dead-center of this pic.
PS. Yes, I allow a wet dog on my sofa. There's a thick cotton blanket and a towel on the seat, and the whole thing's been Scotch-guarded.