Going Bandanas! Or… The Naked Truth
Some people have noticed that I’m a pretty fashionable dog; I always wear a bandanna for flare. I think it’s really boosted my charm, and my mom keeps buying more (I think they’re all different colors but it’s hard for me to tell).
It started with a phone call.
“Your boy Scout is ready,” I heard my groomer speak into the phone.
My heart leaped with joy! Soon She would walk through the door and rescue me from the cacophony of washing and drying and cutting and snipping a dozen other yapping four-leggers parked in kennels all around me.
Me? I sat uncaged next to my groomer as she coifed another. No kennel for me. I am a good boy Scout.
Not long after that, I arrived home with a neckerchief tied around me – standard issue for any good boy scout.
She bought me another. Then another. And another.
The next time I went visiting, I arrived home with yet another kerchief of the bandana variety. Soon, She was changing my bandanas on a monthly rotation to coordinate with the colors of upcoming seasons and holidays.
I’ve become very attached to my bandanas. Like American Express, I don’t leave home without one. In fact, when my bandana falls off after a wild and woolly game of fetch, I’m embarrassed. The naked truth is… I feel naked!
At last count I had 17 bandanas. I hear 18 is a lucky number.
