Primo Hair, C'est Moi by Domino, the mini poodle

Apparently I have ‘primo’ hair.  I know this because when Mother came to pick me up after my haircut at the dog salon, Karen, the groomer cried out “This perky poodle has primo hair.  He should be in a show ring with that mop. Why ever were we cutting it so short?”  Why ever, indeed.

This oversight really makes me wonder about my family’s priorities.  I know how out of the way both my mother and grandmother go to keep their blonde hair (natural or otherwise) looking its best.  I hear them say that everyone in our family gets equal treatment; but after Karen’s comments, that’s beginning to appear a bit disingenuous, isn’t it?  Facts are facts. It now seems clear that they just had Karen trim me in the most efficient way possible and my curls be damned..

Not to throw my Mother’s own words in her face to make my point, but when confronted with an issue, not in her area of expertise, she always says “What am I an expert in this field? Ask a professional. How should I know?”

Well, if that’s the criteria, then it turns out I do have ‘primo’ hair and, as such, deserve special treatment.  It’s not as if I’m being spoiled asking for this recognition; to be honest, it’s not really even about my hair.  I’d just like to be able to believe in my family one again.

My trust has wavered ever since they told me that poodles were their favorite breed but then I found out that Mother has dog allergies. So perhaps the fact that I have primo hair was valued after all; but who wants to be loved because they don't make people sneeze?

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