In the Doghouse. Again.

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?

Me:  Yes…

Beau:  My dish is empty.

And so it goes. Beau gets steak in his bowl and I get sent to the doghouse.