A couple of times a year, Mole’ goes from the most Muppety of pups to a pretty pretty princess and she hates it. With. a. PASSION. If she wouldn’t make it so hard to keep her moppy hair all nice and kept up, we would only shave her down for the Summer. Since she thinks brushing time should take a couple of hours and reenact Wrestle Mania, we have to shear her down more frequently.
I just picked her up from the groomers and now she won’t talk to me. She won’t look at me. She won’t give me hugs. Nothing. She did this last time too. I thought it was the bows. She hated the bows, so no bows this time. Still mad. I thought maybe it was the super fluffed ears. Nope. No fluffy ears and still mad. Maybe it was the flag tail that I couldn’t stop laughing at. Once again, not it. Still pissed. We did a simple shave with a nice afro and a lion tail. Nothing too fancy. She is going out of her way to throw shade my direction. She’ll give Mr. T loves, bring him her toys, follow him around, the usual business. Me? She actually turned her back on me while I was dishing up her dinner. She’s actually laying on MY bed, using MY pillow, and she is GLARING at me. When I turn my head to look at her, or when I say her name, she turns her head AND shoulders away from me.
I guess she’s not fond of forced nudism.
I guess I don’t blame her.
In a couple of days or maybe a couple of weeks she’ll forgive me. For now? My best friend is mad at me and she looks so cute when she’s angry.
I found her hiding under my very modern, very low bed. This is the look she gave me.