You might remember our precocious 11 month old (now) female labradoodle Scout from a recent blog entry (“Man’s Best Friend – and Personal Trainer”). Her beautiful long hair (reminiscent of Farrah Fawcett in the 70’s) was recently shorn (like a sheep on the Australian plain) during her first visit to the groomer. We dropped our Rastafarian looking “big dog” and 3 hours later, picked up a French poodle looking “skinny chick.”
We were shocked – (Scout, we hardly knew ye) and from the way Scout acted the rest of the weekend, so was she.
Personally, as much as I love dogs (and all critters for that matter), I have a problem having a poodle. I know, I know, it’s not supposed to be about looks and superficiality (“Oh, that’s the cutest dog I’ve ever seen,” I’d hear and smile with a sense of fatherly pride.) but about love, loyalty, and companionship. So why do I feel I need to adopt a Rottweiller to compensate?
Scout and I used to be most popular pair on the trail (“What kind of dog is that? Love her hair!)” at the yogurt store (“Can I pet your dog — oh her hair is so soft!”) and at dog beach (It that a boy or a girl? Her coat is so pretty and long I can’t tell.”) Now, we’re ignored like two door to door salesmen with vacuum cleaners in toe.
I know, I know, it’s only hair and it will grow back — eventually. Scout is still the same sweet dog I know and love. I’ll get over it and try and dig deeper; even move below the shallow surface and my 8th grade mentality (Wendy’s descriptor for my current attitude).
But for now, if you happen to see Scout and I out for our run, you can call us,
The Hairless Pairless in San Diego.