The Hair of the Dog

I am the resident groomer for our little schnauzer, Zip. I am so not a professional, but I'm cheap!! The job doesn't pay so well, so I tend to procrastinate. I also blame it on living in the semi-arctic. I can't very well shave him down to there when it's so cold outside, now can I?? You should've seen him in the middle of the winter. He had dredlocks. Very Rasta, man.

As you can maybe discern from his body language, this is not his favorite thing to do. This is Zip in the semi-shaggy state (as opposed to uber-shaggy). Granted, he can barely see through those eyebrows, but what can I say?

Here we are half done. Again, you should've seen the pile when I shaved his dredlocks in the middle of winter.

Voila!! All groomed up and no where to go. . . . Oh, wait, I know--he can go eat cow manure or fill his fur with cockleburrs (a special skill) or any of his other delightful habits from a long list of delightful habits.

But he's mine, all mine--dredlocks, cow manure and all!