It’s a better harbinger of Spring than any stupid groundhawg, I can tell you.
Drifts of soft black fiber waving with every breeze…
…getting caught in every random obstruction…
…and poor Little Bear, sidling away from Daddy whenever he appears at the door with a brush in his hand, like a streetwise kid at the sight of a cop looking to fill his pat-down quota…
From now till Juneish he’ll lose an amazing amount of hair. By the end of March he should be bald as an egg but it never seems to stop, and if I don’t keep up my part he’ll felt up in mats half as big as he is. He likes the attention but isn’t so crazy about the rake I have to use to get into that dense undercoat.
. . . for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my HAAIIIIIIRRRRRRR . . .
🙂 😉 🙂
:)) kinda wondered if that song hadn’t gotten so old nobody’d get the reference.
“I would just like to say that it is myyyyyy conviction . . .”
😉
Last Spring my neighbor was going crazy trying to figure out the source of the large tufts of white hair in his pasture. The look on his face was priceless the morning he drove by while I was out brushing my two pet Boer goats.