-We both have hair that grows a mile a minute. (Dexter is a soft-coated Cairn Terrier, with hair, not fur.)
-We both really, really like to eat. Treats, preferably. And salt & vinegar chips, which I just discovered.
-We both like to sleep in odd positions, sometimes on our backs, sometimes pressed up against something, sometimes falling off of things. Here's an example of one of Dexter's favorite hardcore napping positions:
While we're on the subject of sleep, we both sometimes make noises in our sleep, although from what I can gather from John's observations Dexter is much noisier than I am, and it sounds like he's having a lot more fun. I also like being cool when I sleep, and we assume Dexter does as well, since his preferred sleeping spot is the bottom glass shelf of the desk in our living room.
-We both are itchy a lot. (I've been cursed with sensitive skin; Dexter currently has iron man-strength fleas.)
-We're both stubborn and protest when we're forced to do something we don't want to. Dexter will lie down in the middle of the driveway and get dragged back to the house like that b/c he doesn't want to go back inside. I tend to protest more subtly, usually with passive-aggressive behavior or "killing them with kindness," as they say.
-we both drink A LOT of water.
-We both have bangs.
-We both hate the vacuum.
Vacuuming is really the one "housewife-y" behavior I absolutely despise. I'll get down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor, but I'll avoid pushing a vacuum at all costs. John knows this and we have come to a mutual understanding that he will never have to make dinner and I will never have to touch a vacuum, except when I use it in a supplementary way to get the cobwebs out of corners and suck up spiders (but then don't ask me to empty the thing...I discovered the hard way that the act of being sucked up a tube at what must be a ridiculously fast speed does NOT necessarily kill the spider). I'll also occasionally vacuum the linoleum floors in the kitchen and bathroom with the hose part of the vacuum so that I can wash them afterwords, but that's only after I've asked John several times to please vacuum them and he fails to move fast enough for me to not get impatient and just do it myself so that I can get on with my cleaning. When I get in a cleaning mode, there's no stopping me. I have to clean anything and everything on MY schedule and if you get in my way I might just take a squirt at you with the 409. I do wonder if having a nice vacuum, like one of those Dysons with the tantalizing rotating ball effect, would change the way I feel about vacuuming. I guess that's why those vacuums were created in the first place; for people like me. But until the day John buys me a $300 Dyson for our fifth wedding anniversary because he's finally run out of other practical gifts to give me, I will absolutely refuse to push a clumsy, 25 lb. (just throwing a number out there) piece of crap vacuum around a cardboard-thin carpet while Dexter cowers in the corner with those eyes that say, "Mommy, make it stop!"
So, back to my puppycat and his haircut (why we call him a puppycat will be addressed in a later post...but if you want to draw your own conclusions, you're probably right.) About two months ago, we took him to a professional groomer and had to leave him there for several hours while he was shampooed (and conditioned? do they use conditioner on dogs?) blow-dried, clipped and styled. They even cut off the tiny bit of hair on his little wee wee (I didn't click the "adult content" button for this blog...so...you know...wee wee...which I'm sure made him feel like a little less of a prepubescent teenager) and when we picked him up he was traumatized and looked like a Westie. So we decided that we would groom Dexter at home. I wanted to just look for a different groomer, but John was feeling ambitious, so we went out and bought scissors and a nail clipper and shampoo. On a side note...since then (this was about a month ago) we have not once successfully been able to clip his nails ourselves. Anyway, one day we decided to groom Dexter in our backyard. Since he is impossible to keep still, it was a daunting task. I distracted him with a rawhide while John did most of the snipping (speaking of snipping...Dexter will be getting the big snip next week and I'm freaking out a bit already). I did, however, manage to get ahold of the scissors for a few minutes, and decided to test out my styling abilities on his back right leg. Here are the results:
I guess I got a little too into it. It's hard to tell from the pic, but I unevenly chopped almost ALL of the hair off of his leg. Luckily, as I said before, his hair grows really quickly, so now, his cute little stubby legs look normal again.
He's starting to look like a Yorkie lately, which means it's time for a haircut. John's plan is to take a scissors to him tomorrow in the yard, while I'm safely at work 30 miles away. My plan is to take him to a new groomer that a coworker recommended when he's all healed up from his snip snip next week.
John's random tidbit for the day: Hilary Clinton is looking more and more like the emperor from Star Wars.
