I got a bath and a clipping yesterday. The lady came and hustled me into her torture van. No big deal, right? I'm a big dog now, and I've learned to endure. For all the fuss and bother, I'm guessing she did a good job. My whole family says how cute I look with the little extra fur left on my tail and a not insubstantial mustache. All well and good, no news here, right? Wrong! Look at my report card.
Some of it is OK. Like this: "anal glands moderately full today and healthy." I feel good. Phewww, that's some load off my tush.
And this: "Tommy's coat, skin, and ears all appear healthy today . . ."
But here's the deal. Can you see my grade? B+, ughhh. And do you see why? "I could use more brushing and combing" it says. And whose fault is that? Not mine; it is really my mommy and daddy who are to blame. I worked real hard and was very good. But this stays on my permanent record. What if I decide to go onto graduate school? What are my chances with this ugly blot? It isn't fair.