The Haircut

Gave my little dog a haircut today.

It has been months, and her hair grows

fast. So much hair to cut, a whole

other dog to clip away.

I have to use a scissors, can’ get those

electric shears to work. I’ve tried dif-

ferent attachments and angles. I Must

be me doing something wrong.

Damned thing! Then I revert to using

the scissors again. She fights me and

struggles every step of the way. Hard

to keep her still, so I got to be careful

not to snip her skin.

Got to do this, Carmen, I keep telling

her. You’ll feel much better when I’m

done, a lot cooler with all that hair gone.

I’m really giving myself excuses, trying

to reinforce my reasoning while carefully

maneuvering around her patiently and

hopefully accurately.

I have difficulty standing or sitting for

even short periods of time, so the hour

or so it takes to complete the task is as

much of a struggle for me as it is for her.

Careful around the paws; slow and easy

does it around the eyes and snout; steady

trimming near the ears. Hold still, baby

girl. Sit, stand up, come here.

I swore last time to take her to a groomer,

but they want to keep her for several hours.

I’ve never given her up to anyone or left

her alone for that long in her life.

Called one of those mobile groomers,

but due to the worldwide pandemic they

are not taking new customers presently.

So, here I am again snip, snip, snipping

away, hair flying everywhere. She’s

squirming every which way, and I’m

agonizing with anxiety and pain.

There you go, little girl, that’s good

enough, and will have to do for now.

Feel cooler? You look much better.

And I hurt like hell. Got to get to

my chair. I’ll clean up this mess later.

I can write about the incident in less

time, and with not the same degree

of difficulty. I keep insisting, next

time, though…

But just in case, I’ll keep the scissors

handy as her hair continues to grow.

And for certain, I’m not getting any

younger.

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 6-4-2020