Story time! My family has a dog. She is a purebred Maltese, weighs about 6 pounds and is absolutely adorable. We affectionately refer to her as "our little floor mop". Her real name, however, is Happy. Happy recently went, quite reluctantly, to the groomer's. We like to keep her hair short, but this time it was cut a little too short. When they trimmed the hair on her face they completely shaved off her whiskers (which is not good, it irritates the dog). Our theory is that one of them became infected because she developed a sore on her face. It wouldn't have been too bad but she kept scratching at it. It became worse and worse, her poor little cheek was all bloody. So we did what any loving owners would do, humiliated her and stripped her of all her dignity. She is now our little cone-headed floor mop. She hates it and your heart just melts when she stares up at you with those big sad eyes. But I will admit, it is quite entertaining. It took her quite a while to realize the limitations that were now set on her. Just a few days ago I walked into the kitchen to find Happy trying her hardest to get through the doggy door that leads to the backyard. The poor little thing was turning her head every way possible to try to fit through that door. As sad as it was, I couldn't help but laugh.
