Friday, December 7, 2012
A few times a year I take Priscilla to the groomer for a haircut. There was a period of time when I would cut her hair myself until out of the blue she started flipping out the minute she saw me take the scissor out of the drawer. It was so weird. One day she's lying there, literally sleeping through my cutting her beard and all around her eyes and ears and the next day she sees the scissors in my hands and her whole body starts to shake as if she's about to have a seizure - which is a real possibility since she actually does have epilepsy. So you see my predicament. Thankfully our groomer is very kind and is not intimidated by her behavior. she even cuts the hair around her face super short allowing us fewer haircuts - which is much appreciated.
Above is Priscilla refusing to look at me once I packed her into the car. I think she was really upset with me this time. I tried not to feel guilty but I swear she knew this because once we got home she played my guilt for all it was worth. I finally caught onto that after doling out the 6th or 7th treat in between numerous trips outside. Wait a minute...
the manipulator hard at work