Chance meets with a coif catastrophe
Remember the mix of fear/shame/giddiness you felt when your parents woke in the middle of the night to find you in the bathroom with a fistful of hair and a face framed with unfortunately shaped bangs? That’s how I felt Sunday when Jeremy walked into our bathroom to find me surrounded by black hair, holding a dog that looked more like Bon Jovi circa 1984 than a purebred Pekingese.
Why, you ask, would I cut his hair myself when I have no experience or background in grooming? Well, there are many reasons I decided to take matters into my own hands including my impatient nature and lack of expendable income, however it was mostly a spur of the moment decision brought on by Chance’s most recent flare-up of itchiness. The combination of his long hair with an excess of oil produced by his skin disease make it impossible for us to keep up with the mats he was producing by rolling around on the floor trying to quell his itch. And so I cut his hair myself with a pair of basic sewing scissors. Check out the results below and be thankful I don’t have access to your dog’s dos.