Of to get my haircut

I’m off to get a haircut. I just gave Zeke his monthly flea treatment and I hate doing that because he hates me for the rest of the day. (He’s off hiding under the bed in the guest room now.) He simply doesn’t seem to buy my argument that “it’s for your own good.” “Oh yeah,” he seems to say, “then you try and see how much you like it.”



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