It's tough to be handsome

I like to prance around like the next poodle-Pomeranian mix. I twirl, as Mr. Food Boy calls it.

I twirl and twirl around when I get excited. It may be in the morning as I anticipate food or it can be when Mr. Food Boy readies to take me out. (Basically, he scoops me up and places me on the back of the couch. He changes my collar and I'm ready to go.) I twirl.

Today, I did not twirl when Mom announced, "You're going to get trimmed up." I didn't like the sound of it. She took Mauly and me outside and then tricked me when I got into my crate. Despite the fact, she kept saying, "You're going to VIP today. I didn't understand." I heard "Blah, Blah, Blah, treats."

Mauly got put away safely in her crate while I got picked up in my crate and carried to the car. I did my best to whimper and ignore Mom's explanations about our destination. "I don't care," I whimpered through barks and low growls. I tried to catch her attention with my sad eyes, but it didn't work. Mom looked straight ahead at the road.

When we arrived, the people at VIP (that stands for Very Important Pets) checked me in. I don't know the groomer's name, but she knew mine. "Eddie!" she cooed as she took me from Mom's arms.

By the time Mr. Food Boy picked me up several hours later, I was exhausted. I get nervous when Mom leaves me there. They always take care of me at VIP, but I am stressed. They have music playing in the background and have a nice facility.

Mom was delighted by my trim. It is easier to put my collar on for my evening walk and I will be cooler when the 90-degree temperatures return to our piece of Texas.

I was so exhausted by the day on the town that I barely moved from my perch on the pillows this evening (Mauly also used this as an opportunity to take an uninvited seat on the couch).

Some days it's doggone tough being handsome. Tonight, I am resting. I can twirl tomorrow.