Time for a Trim

I love Charlie's featherduster feet, but after watching him lose his footing today and almost fall off the terrace wall (when admittedly he was annoying a sun-lounging Pouncer, which he oughtn't to do and perhaps served him right...) I decided it was time to take action.

I'm no expert groomer, but I watched a couple of YouTube vids, got out my scissors, and we headed outside.

"You want to trim my paws? You and what army?!!"
Charlie, as you can see, was not too keen on the whole thing.

"Leave my paws alone."
He's all about being in "control" plus I think it must have tickled a little when I cut the underpaw fur.

The feathers are as long under the feet as on top of them!
Eventually, though, he relaxed in the sun and we got through it.

Trimmed and sure-footed!
I don't think I would ever be hired to do this, but fortunately Charlie agrees that it's more important to be able to catch the kitties than to wow them with your good looks!

"Where'd that Pouncer go?"

 

Slow Walking

Charlie and I, it seems, have different ideas on what constitutes a good dog walk. For my part, I want it to be long enough to burn off excess canine energy that otherwise might will be directed toward me (and probably involve teeth), slightly brisk, and far enough away to see new neighborhoods and experience new things.
Charlie, however, completely disagrees. In his mind, the purpose of a walk is to check pee-mail, score love, and, who knows, maybe find some dropped food. One should not go past anything scary, like the schoolyard, or the house with the whirlygigs, anywhere there are workmen, or anyplace new. So his preference is to just go around the block. Slow. Real slow. Sniffingly slow.

So we compromise. I make him go farther than he wants to, because he needs to be desensitized to the idea that new = scary. But we go slow, and we smell the flowers.

Spring Has Sprung

And Charlie must be growing up --- he's lying in the sun instead of tiptoeing through the tulips.

 

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I guess he thought Joey needed to blow his nose.
I try to be careful not to leave tasty kleenex within Charlie's grasp and usually don't know I've failed until I clean the yard, but somehow this one escaped...