All Our Children Meow and Woof: Looking Handsome

All Our Children Meow and Woof

I created this blog to sort through my emotions as Finnegan, a great Irish Wolfhound, fought bone cancer for nearly 26 months. Fortunately, his battle subsided for many months and during the course of the 26 months, I shared stories about his feline siblings. On August 8, 2008, Finny passed on in my husband's and my arms. He fought the good fight and he will always have a special place in my heart. *If you have a question, please write me at finnegandog at gmail dot com.*

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Looking Handsome

Damn. Mom bought another brush for me. I hate to be brushed. Mom wanted a dog that not only was huge but also was not to fussy or fancy. She wanted a disheveled looking dog (somewhat like herself - HELLO MOM! TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT AT WORK! YOU ARE AN ATTORNEY!) and decided Irish Wolfhounds were disheveled enough for her. So I'm psyched! Mom will never ever get me wet for a bath or brush me. I can look like one of those Rastafarian dogs with dreadlocks. Sweet!

Oh no. I am not let of the hook so easily. She doesn't want me wearing Patchouli to cover my body odor and jamming out to Bob Marley. She actually thinks I should have a bath a few times a year AND be brushed. In the summer, she bathes me out back because I do not fit in the bath tub. That's a shocker. I try to get away but she hooks my leash to the fence and washes me like a mad woman. The only fun part is getting dried off with the towel and trying to knock her over as I try to dry myself off on her. Ahhh, sweet sweet revenge. She also brings me to a spa (okay groomer) where I get my private parts trimmed (Brazillian wax?), a bath (with fancy oatmeal shampoo), and they use a scary tool to grind down my nails. HOLY SH*T! I think my parents used the same tool to sand furniture and the floors!!!!! Step back from the Wolfhound and slowly put the tool down. Woof!

Mom tries to brush me every few days because I shed and for some dumb reason, she does not want my hair coating every surface of the house. Yum! Wolfhound hair soup! Tasty! I hate to be brushed. I am el sensitivo and do not like the feeling of being brushed. I like to look like a slob and smell like something funky I rolled around in the back yard. What's wrong with that? Now she bought this little brush for gently getting through mats. Gentle my ass. It is so sharp she cut her thumb on the brush. Whoohahahaha! Serves her right!

My point. Oh yes, the point is that since my chemotherapy, my skin is sooo itchy! I am hoping it will finally go away. It's not the food because it started after the chemotherapy. Or could it be the food? I hope not because it is the only food that does not give me dogbursts (explosive diarrhea). Mom tries to get as much loose hair out so it does not bother me. Also, she puts some spray stuff on to cool off my skin and I end up smelling sweet like hairspray or something. Gag.

Alright. I need to go back to listening to the Grateful Dead and spinning in circles. Right on.

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Blogger Tin Tin Blogdog said...

Hey Finnegan,

I have to say I'm not with you on disliking the brushing, doog.

When my ma gets the rubber mitt out (which is covered with ridges) and starts to groom me, I go into a trance.

She gets off all the loose hair, and it satisfies my itches all over the place. Then I get wriggly.

Can't say I'd tolerate the hairspray though, doog. Sounds like sneeze central.

Peace and love, bro'...gotta light?

Chow for now,

Tin Tin xo

8:30 PM  

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