Harry got a haircut. I think he looks much better. He, on the other hand, is not sure what to think about all this. He looks like he feels naked and exposed. He looks a little uncomfortable and embarassed.
Sometimes he looks at me like, "Mom, where did you put my hair?" Maybe I just have an over active sense of guilt.
But he drags his little sheepskin blanket out of his kennel and takes it along with him wherever he goes. He won't even lay on the rug anymore - he needs his blanket. Just pitiful.
Maybe guilt looks better in sepia. Have I really become one of those people who take endless pictures of their dog?
Maybe. It's OK, Honey, it will grow back. It's just hair. That's what my mom always told me after she took one last whack at my crooked bangs. Maybe that's where all this guilt is coming from. Or maybe it was the Barbies. None of my Barbies survived long with their full head of hair.