Freaky (Sneaky) Pete

Poor Pete. It's all the refrigerator's fault. It decided to retire itself this past weekend, after 30 some years of service (not all to us). Of course, we didn't realize it was that old, nor that it was ready to pass into that permanent deep freeze zone. Still, it sent us into a slight monetary panic. ("How the heck are we going to afford a new fridge?")? I'm violently opposed to opening more credit lines (especially those that come with the complimentary 24.9 percent interest rate). We scrambled, using some bill money (defer, defer, defer) ... and Pete's grooming money. So, he got a "poor dog's" cut, courtesy of yours truly. (And no, I did not cut his ear off --he was in ornery mode in this photo, getting ready to run from me. He has a fear of cameras, as well as scissors. Or maybe he was just about done with tolerating my antics for the day.)

Since his sheep-like fur won't take the cutter/trimmer thing, we spent a long afternoon with the scissors on the back porch. Envision a cloud of little white curls cycloning around the patio. Envision Sneaky Pete, leaning east as I have him pinched between my legs ... snipping away. Interestingly, he's even less cooperative while on his flipside. ("Whoa ... get those things away from there!," I could imagine he was thinking as I played Edward Scissorshand.) During the two times he managed to escape, we played a game of "cat and mouse" on the patio until I tired and resorted to bribes (pretzels).

The end result is ... well ... let's just say he won't be winning any contests nor attracting any girlfriends anytime soon. (Except for Topsy kitty. She loves him. Okay--she loves everyone.) But at least his hair is shorter and he's clean (complimentary bath with trim service). I prefer to think of his cut as a work in progress. You see, I'm not finished yet. There's just a couple more spots ...