Poor Taco. He always gets the brunt of my desire to be a dog groomer. I tried once. I started the course. Sure, I didn't finish it...but does that really matter? Well, by looking at his hair, I guess it does.
I play beauty parlor with Taco. I wash his hair, cut it and then splash him with lavendar scented oil. Trim, trim, trim. A little here. A little there. Before you know it, everything is crooked.
Is it the fact that I use scissors from the dollar store? I'm sure that doesn't help.
This was Taco this morning. Laying back on a chair, he had this look that said, if the other dogs see this haircut, I'm done.
My poor boy. I just keep telling him how gorgeous he is because even with a bad haircut, he is my beautiful boy.
No comments:
Post a Comment