I did not know that labs drool as much as mine does. Nor did I ever in a million years think they would shed as bad as mine does. How can he possibly have any hair left, I wonder? And his nails. Oh dear, his nails. I did what the vet said to do, play with his feet as much as possible. And I even attempted cutting them a few times. But all of a sudden he's got this phobia of us touching his feet. Heaven forbid he sees you with the clippers in your hand, cause you're not getting anywhere near his nails with those. Sunday morning he had a traumatic experience as he found out what it felt like to have the quick cut along with the nail. That thing bled and bled. So thank goodness for the folks at the PetSmart and their head harnesses. For 9 bucks we can take him in for a little "pawdicure." Maybe my dad can whip us up one of those head harnesses in the welding shop. It's for your grandpup after all. And I'm out of a job, so 9 bucks is 9 bucks.
If you can picture this, two dogs now going crazy, me trying to keep my dog from getting bit again, and the girl going pyscho yelling at me to please grab her dog by the collar so he doesn't go in the street. I'm thinking, "ya right, lady. who do you think i am, the dog whisperer?" It was insane. They managed to throw over the other dog's leash and by some small miracle I was able to get it hooked on without getting bit. Wilson apparently made a new friend. And they were glad that I saved their dog from getting run over by a car.
Tune in next time for more stories of how my life has changed and how I'm more apt to have a heart attack now that I have a dog.