It was time. Time to give the dogs their summer do and shave them down. Griffin is a good boy and comes and sits to get shaved, if a bit forlorn. It takes two of us to shave down Missy, who is less than half Griffin’s size. She is just so wiggly and everything tickles. But it is done, and they are much happier black dogs in this Texas heat. We had enough hair to make a new dog. Literally. I’m quite impressed with my eldest’s fast sculpting; she even arranged the white hairs on the chest.

No, I didn’t keep the fur to spin. My dogs produce wiry hair with no crimp which I have not figured out how to spin, and the thought of a hair shirt is not a pleasant one.

When I sit down to breakfast in the morning, I have an intense audience. Not because they get table scraps, but because I get out the laser light for the red light game. If it is too early in the morning, Missy doesn’t run, she just stares at my hand, which is irritating. So I run the light up her leg and onto her tail. That usually gets her riled up enough to run. Nothing like a little tromp around the kitchen island to get the appetite up for breakfast.

This is Missy. Missy is waiting for me to take the ball and throw it. Missy has been holding that ball there, staring at me, for a full minute. This is not an accidental picture. This is full demonstration of the foot control the dog has learned. When I’m seated, she will put the ball next to my leg, and use her foot to tuck it in so it doesn’t move. At first I thought it was accidental foot movements. Clearly, it is not.