As in, he has none.
I knew it was coming. After all, we had been unwise and let him get super shaggy (which, of course, is just the way we like him). I had hoped that the doggy hairdresser (we found ourselves a newer, nicer version) could work a miracle, but had a hunch about the way things would turn out. So when I received a phone call about an hour or so after dropping him off, I wasn't too surprised. Tried everything, they did. Shampoo, comb, brush. . .all the doggy tricks they could come up with, but to no avail. He kindly assured me that because Buddy is so good natured it hadn't been a problem at all and then told me that I was welcome to have someone else give it a whirl if I thought they might have better success.
It only took me about one second to think of our "someone else" options before I made a decision.
"Go for it," I said. Which meant that Buddy would step out of the beauty parlor looking just a shadow of his former self.
Was it as bad as I had imagined? Worse. Buddy is now only half the man he once was.
I picked him up on the way to get the girls from school and readied myself for the drama that I knew would quickly unfold before my very eyes. Tears- and lots of 'em, I was afraid. And poor buddy? Well, lets just say he wasn't hanging out the window to greet them.
This time, however? A different reaction. No tears. No wailing. For Buddy, I'm afraid it's even worse.
The girls have responded with Denial. Denial with a capital D.
Ryenne climbed in and took a good, hard look at her dog.
"That's not buddy." She turned around in her seat, looked straight ahead out the window, and from that moment on, refuses to even look at him. No hugs of consolation for the poor guy. No, "don't worry, it will grow back" assurances. Oh, no. No compassion whatsoever for his misfortune.
In her mind, buddy no longer exists.
Kate is in the same camp. "He looks like a girl," is all she will say.
Talk about being in the doghouse. In typical boy-like fashion, Courtney laughs and calls him a 'rat' every time he sees him. Claire teases him, following him around pulling the pom-pom on his tail (designed, I suppose, in a misguided effort to help him preserve some kind of dignity). And the three oldest girls? Normally the first thing they do following his haircuts is remove the handkerchief carefully tied around his neck. I must say I agree - they look ridiculous. Now, almost 24 hours later, he's still wearing his silly get-up. The poor guy might as well be invisible.
I tell you what. Around these parts, bad hair days are nothing to joke about. In a house full of women, grown-up or otherwise, things of such magnitude are not to be taken lightly.