A cruel tail

If someone tells you the haircut makes the man, believe it.

I don’t think this is necessarily an issue for me, although Zach’s college friend said I look something like William Shakespeare.

Wouldst that I couldst write like Shakespeare, I’d take that as a compliment.

I have more up top.

I can’t, so I won’t.

I think the comparison was prompted, though, by my grayish hair that grows thicker around the sides of my head than on top – an affliction of men my age, I’ve observed.  And when the wind is just right and my hair’s long enough, it can billow out like Mickey Mouse ears.

I suspect that billowing effect and my light beard and moustache reminded Zach’s friend of a picture he once saw of bard Bill.

Anyway, my hair is not the topic today.  Linus is.

Linus is the smaller of our two dogs. He’s a terrier-poodle-goodness-knows-what-else mix, a scrappy guy and, on most days, extremely hairy.

I call him Mighty Dog.  Sure, he’s compact.  But he displays no fear except during high winds, heavy rains and thunderstorms.  Okay, he’s also startled by any loud bang like a door slamming shut or firecrackers.  But who isn’t?  Then there are loud voices. And the neighborhood cat. Oh, and trips to the vet.  Sometimes his shadow ….

Otherwise, he’s a warrior.

A Linus in winter

I mention his hair because usually about this time of year Linus has plenty.  Some dogs shed.  Linus doesn’t … his hair hangs on, growing like topsy.

At a certain point he reminds me of Cousin It of the Addams Family.  You remember … the hairy creature, occasionally with the bowler hat.  Cousin It’s hair, though, flows vertically and is well coiffed.  Linus, being a dog, is horizontal.  And his hair spins and curls in multiple directions that defy gravity and most of Nature’s other laws.  His tail, meanwhile, loops in tight circles like a coiled bullwhip.

Linus, I’m afraid, is a knee-high Chia Pet with a pig’s tail. 

His hair has its benefits, though.  For one, when it’s longest, you can’t tell if he’s coming or going – useful in a fight since the foe might think Linus is charging when, in fact, he’s in full retreat.

More than that, though, his hair lends credence to his warrior status.  A massive beard can be truly frightening.  Ask any Viking.  Or Joaquin Phoenix.

Joaquin ... oh!

So during March, Linus is the ultimate intimidator … hairy, fearsome, fearless, lionhearted. 

Alas, not for long. Bard Bill may have warned of the ides of March, but it was T.S. Eliot who called April the cruelest month.

The cruelty of scissors, I’d say.

You see, sometime in April, warrior dog – snip snap! – is turned to weenie dog.

The hard fact is, Linus would not survive a hot Kansas City summer with his hair.  So we must get him trimmed.

But how he is trimmed is the issue.  It happens this way each year, and it’s maddening for me and I would think debilitating for him.

Almost overnight, he’s shorn like a sheep.  That would be okay if it was done thoroughly and evenly, from nose tip to tail’s end. From bow to stern. That’s what happens to friend Riley, our Golden Retriever.

But with Linus, it’s not. Instead, hair is left in patches on his ears, his whiskers and above his eyes. 

Linus and Riley spot the White Cat. Oh, that tail!

Okay … that’s kind of cute.

But his tail, which has as much fluff by March as a dozen cheerleaders’ pompoms, goes untouched.   

Where’s the logic in that?!

It’s like the groomer needed some positive reinforcement … some giant, physical exclamation point to her long day’s work.  Best to leave it at the end of this dog with the odd tail, she reasoned.  How could it hurt?

Unfortunately, what emerges is not my fearsome friend. 

No, what’s left is My Pretty Pony … with a short-cut mane, nothing in the middle, and a tail that dances like a feather boa.

Okay ... I’ll be honest, I think this is my hang-up.  Linus doesn’t seem to notice. Dogs don’t use mirrors.

And he does seem to run faster, with more energy while staying cooler, when he’s newly shorn.  Appropriate for summer, I guess.

Plus the hair will be back.  By fall, he’ll have those extra layers for warmth.  He’ll regain that warrior in him … ready to slay the dragons of December, January and February.

So I need to relax.

Sure, now comes the spring of my discontent. 

But like King Richard’s winter, I’d best be over it.