Mom Tried to Vacuum my Arse!

This fur/ hair thing has been an issue since I grew outa my cute puppy age. When I’m outside, the only hair accumulating in the camper is Moms. Do I hear her complaining of her hair everywhere? No, nope, nada, not a peep.

My Mama hates having hair-fur everywhere. When the weather is between 30- & 40-degrees Mom feels it’s her duty to keep me camper bound. In a very short time, my fur intermingles with Mom’s hair & it accumulates.

I don’t want anyone falling for Mom’s ‘poor me’ act. She knows that if she brushed my mane every day like she is supposed to, the fur issue would be cut in ½.

This morning Mom vacuumed & scrubbed the floor; 5- minutes later, I sneezed & hair puffed off me like a miniature snowstorm. My Mama’s facial expression didn’t change much, but her eyes were seething. I felt fear.

The vacuum was still out, so Mom took the nozzle & ran it up & down my back, causing my loose hair to pop off my body in joyous abandon. It felt kinda good, so I made the mistake of relaxing while Mom’s eyes were still crazed.

The next thing I knew, the vacuum roared to life, trying to suck my entire being into that black snake nozzle. I screamed in terror & my eyeballs were spit’n terrified shock as I jumped up & pushed back against the opposite wall so fast The Ivy shook.

The picture is of me cowering in the corner with the monster of death toying with me.

Mom took a deep breath of regret as she shut the sucking monster off. All her hopeful musings of me cooperating with this new hair removal technique died along with her heartfelt singing while visions of living in a fur-free space vanished.

As I mentioned, it’s been cool in Louisiana, & as you know, I’m supposed to be an outside dog. This A.M. Mom graced me with the pleasure of lay on my thick dog bed in the sun. She believed that when I got cold, I’d sound the alert & come back into The Ivy. Yup, she was wrong. Mom about had a heart attack when she peered out the window & saw me shivering & shaking.

I got the talking to of a lifetime. “Don’t you know hypothermia could kill you? Was your brain so frozen that you didn’t have enough sense to come inside? I thought you were supposed to be a smart dog!”

As I was getting my ample butt chewed, My Mama threw her nice soft blanket on me & proceeded to rub me all over to get the heat back in my bones.

I did not make eye contact or even let loose a tiny snicker when I saw fur all over Mom’s blanket. Mom didn’t say a word, but suddenly it was laundry day.

That night, Mom & I were lounging in bed, her reading a book while I was pestering for attention. She kinda kicked at me so I would quit annoying her & her PJ bottoms lifted & exposed her legs. I was so pleased to see that she, too, has furry legs, especially the one where the e-bike took a bite outa her shin. That fur was much darker & more forestry-looking than the non-injured leg. (That wound ointment was kick-ass. Thank goodness Mom didn’t get a hole kicked into her chin, she might have a beard now, or if she had an upper lip nick, she might need a mustache trimmer. Humm, Why are baldies not using this ointment on their head?)

When Mom noticed our legs were similarly adorned, she was mortified instead of pleased like me. The next day all her leg fur was gone. How sad is that? I mean, I really was bummed.

 I think we can all agree that I have very fine-looking legs. What would those wonderfully golden-brown-haired legs look like if I shaved them? Scary yuck is what I’d say.

Let’s all remind Mom to focus on the big picture, let the minor hairy-furred issues fade away.  

Luv, Otis

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