Ginger got her summer ‘do yesterday.  I spent about two hours with the clippers out on the deck, enjoying the rare sunny warm day, shearing the wool from my dog.

The first time I cut her hair, she had rolled on a strip of flypaper at camp, and cutting the hair off was the only way to extricate her.  She was terrified and frankly not very attractive after that butcher job.  But since she’s the one who gets into absolutely everything, we decided to take a preemptive strike and shave her last summer.

At that point, she was mortified — and angry.  But she got lots of yummies, and we told her how pretty she was, so then it was all better.  And after a couple of weeks, the white hair had grown out enough to cover the pink skin.

So yesterday, she was shivering but cooperative.  Today, she’s prancing around as if she were the cutest little bald pomeranian on the planet.   I’m almost afraid to trim her toenails (another reason to hide).