Friday, July 20, 2012

The end of my hair problems

Woof! My name is Sheena and I live with my mistress in an apartment on the seventh floor. She’s a nice human and I am quite happy living with her. As a dog, you don’t expect much from life -- eat, sleep, play ball, with a belly rub or two in between – and you are all set.

I love my human and she loves me. But I dislike her hair. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t really judge humans by their beauty. Not that my mistress isn’t pretty -- but then that’s fodder for another blog. But she’s got really bad hair. It’s spiky and pointy and prickly and dry and what not.

Wait a minute, you say. Well, I expected that. Who would believe a dog has problems with human hair? After all, we pets have our fair share of fleas and ticks. But you got to be in my paws to understand the problem. When my mistress nuzzles up against me whispering sweet nothings, I am itching to get away. Her hair irritates me, scratches against my nose and even gets tangled in my mane. And since I want her to cuddle with me, I suffered in silence –- or the occasional whine when a stray split end pricked my nose.

But even dogs have their limits and I had to do something. And so I took matters into my own paws.

One morning, when mistress was in the bath, I used the doggie door to leave and trotted down to the house across the hall. The human who lives there has a dog too -- Buttercup -- she’s a fellow bitch. We share a lot of secrets and I know a lot about her human. Buttercup was waiting for me. I gave her the signal -- three short barks – and she guided me into their bedroom. We crept past her sleeping mistress and Buttercup growled softly when she spotted the thing on the table. I put my paws up and retrieved what I had come for. I bid goodbye to Buttercup and returned home.

I rushed to the bath where my mistress was splashing around and dropped the thing in her hands.

“What have you dug up, Sheena?” she asked, fingering the tube with the bird on it. But she wasn’t angry. “Dove, dove, dove” she whispered, giving me a pat on the head, as she proceeded to open the tube. And that was the end of my hair problems!

It was Buttercup who helped me. Her mistress had bad hair too -- until the day the flying bird tube had shown up. Buttercup was sure the tube had some kind of magic in it -- for that very same day, her mistress had shiny, smooth hair that smelt as fresh as sunflowers.

And I noticed it right away. When my mistress came out of the bath, her hair was bouncy and soft and smelt really nice. So nice in fact that I jumped up to lick her face. She laughed and gave me a nice, long cuddle and it was good. I wished it would never end.

Fellow doggies, you now know what to do. Get your human the magic tube and you won’t regret it. It’s been nice yapping with you. Woof!

(This post is an entry for the Dove contest on

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