Sunday, October 14, 2012

Clipper Nightmares

Not those things again.  I hate them.  I HATE them.  They are loud and they feel weird against my skin.  Usually it is a lady at Mommy's work that forces me to sit still while those things tear through my beautiful long fur, but now Mommy is doing it herself.  I don't know why.  What did I do to deserve this punishment?

I do everything I can to make her stop.  I shiver and shake, I try to jump down off the table and run off, I lie down to cover the parts she is trying to clip.  However I try though, it just doesn't seem to help.  If I lay down, she picks me up.  If I try to move, she tells me to stay.  If I shake and try to crawl onto her lap she only holds me for a moment before putting me back on that dreaded table.

What's worse is, I don't think Mommy even knows what she's doing.  She takes those noisy awful clippers to me, but my fur feels weird afterwords.  It is short in some spots and longer in others.  I look silly; I just know it.  Now my legs are naked - it feels strange.  The dew on the grass is colder now in the mornings without my thick fur to protect me.  I must keep my eye on her from now on.  Perhaps I'll find someway to destroy those clippers so she cannot use them again. . .