The Great Shearing Debacle

Beaumont: (Dramatic sigh) Louise, you’ve done it again.

Me: Done what, Beau? (Innocently)

Beau: Don’t play coy with me, Louise. You know exactly what you’ve done.

Me: At the risk of stating the obvious, perhaps you could be a tad more specific?

Beau: (Gestures dramatically) Look at me!

Me: (Feigning admiration) You look… streamlined! Very chic.

Beau: Don’t try to pull the wool—or lack thereof—over my eyes!

Me: (Bursting into laughter) Well, to be fair, there isn’t much wool left to pull! (Trying to suppress hysterical giggles. I really do think I’m funny sometimes!)

Beau: (Glaring at me) Think again. You are not funny, Louise. I feel… exposed.

Me: You look great! Think of it as a summer makeover.

Beau: You’re not the one running around, no fur, practically naked.

Me: I don’t wear fur, Beau. (Trying to sound reasonable)

Beau: Oh, so now you’re being deliberately obtuse? Not your finest moment, Louise.

Me: At least I still have some attire. (Smiling sweetly, with a hint of mischief) Besides, it’ll grow back. And before you know it, you’ll be loving your breezy new look.

Beau: The only thing I want growing back is my fur. Give. It. Back.

Me: (Sighing) Sorry, Beau. Not possible.

Beau: Fine. Then let’s discuss how you’re going to rectify this… situation.

Me: I’m not sure there’s a problem. (Trying to sound convincing)

Beau: (Scoffs) Oh, Louise. You’re so wrong. To make amends, you could start by providing me with that T-bone steak my legions of fans have been clamouring for me to get. (Batting his eyelashes and giving me his most charming smile)

Me: (Firmly) Not happening, Beau.

Beau: Then we need to have a serious conversation about respect. About how you’ve disregarded my feelings, my needs, my wants. This is unacceptable hooman behavior.

Me: But I was thinking of your well-being! Summer’s coming, your fur was matted, you were getting a bit… fragrant, and I wanted you to be comfortable in the heat.

Beau: Do you always justify your questionable decisions by casting yourself as the heroine? Because it’s not working.

And with a dramatic huff, Beaumont retreats to the master bedroom, climbs up on the bed and curls up next to C.C., leaving me to ponder how to regain his favour.

Beau: (From the bedroom, loud enough for me to hear) A T-bone steak would be a good start, Louise.

(Sighing) Seriously? How do I fix a situation that, logically, isn’t broken—he really did need a haircut—when the ‘fix’ creates an even bigger problem?

Beau: (Yelling from the bedroom) You overcomplicate everything, Louise! It’s simple: T-bone steak. Then me and my fans will be quiet… until we decide I need another one.