Beaumont: Seroiusly? Did you have to cut it so short?
Me: It was your dad’s decision.
Beau: Ha! You’re the one who came to pick me up at the hairdressers. You’re the one who paid for this atrocity.
Me: It’s not an atrocity.
Beau: Yeah? Well you be the one walking around as if you’re in your birthday suit.
Me: It’s not that bad.
Beau: Easy for you to say.
Me: Everyone comments on it.
Beau: Yeah. Comments. As in, he got shaved I see. Nobody comments on me looking good.
Me: My goodness. When did you get to be so vain.
Beau: It’s not vanity. it’s self-preservation. Have you noticed how none of the gals at the park even pay any attention to me now? They think I’m just some giant rodent on steroids.
Me: Don’t be ridiculous.
Beau: Hey! You’re the ridiculous one for paying for this sheering.
Me: I don’t understand why you’re taking this out on me. It’s your dad who made the call to have you shaved.
Beau: Yeah? you’re the one who picked me up and paid. That means you’re accountable.
Me: You know it will grow back. Right?
Beau: You know it’s gonna feel like a long wait for my attitude to change?
Me: (sigh) What if I buy you one of those cool looking coats?
Beau: What? are you trying to make me into a complete laughingstock? In a word. No Way.
Me: That’s two words.
Beau: Seriously? You’re counting words when you paid a fortune for this?
Me: It was for your own good. Your winter coat was too thick and seeing as you won’t let me brush you without a fuss, it was getting matted.
Beau: Is public humiliation for my own good too?
Me: (sighing again) So what do you want me to do. It’s not like I can glue the fur back on.
Beau: So… you know that leftover steak from dinner last night?
Beau: My dish is empty.
And so it goes. Beau gets steak in his bowl and I get sent to the doghouse.