Well, I TRIED to take a picture of Chappy with his new hair cut for you. He’s needed one for a couple of weeks now, and finally, I couldn’t stand it and got out the scissors while Mom was making supper tonight. (The added distraction both helped and hindered the "Chappy, hold still" routine.) He looks absolutely handsome and dapper with his newly-trimmed fur, but even though I solemnly promised him that the flash was turned off, he refused to look at the camera. (You’d think a boy would trust his mother.)

So, what’s a girl to do?

Grab hold and force him to pose for the camera, of course!

And, no, I wasn’t exactly miserable about it, either.

(Really, it’s almost impossible to tell where my hair stops and his fur begins, isn’t it? But then, as I keep saying, we ARE both Boykens. I mean, I’m a BoykEn and he’s a BoykIn, but still.)

We’re both relieved that the grooming-torture is over for the day. He doesn’t really mind getting a hair cut, as long as it doesn’t take more than 10 minutes or so, but we also did his nails at lunch time, and he hates that. We use a Dremel nail grinder rather than clippers, but still . .  not fun for either of us. There definitely are times I wish his nails weren’t dark, chocolate brown, you know? (Incidentally, the best explanation I’ve ever read about using a Dremel on dog nails? Here at Dober Dawn . . . the link is on the bottom left.)

I even had a nice little chat about him while I was feeding my car after work. The fellow filling the tank (it’s all full-service in New Jersey, you know) commented as he was handing me back my credit card, "I noticed the frame on your license plate says "Proud mother of a Boykin Spaniel," and I noticed your last name on your credit card is Boyken, and I …" Of course, I saw where he was going and was all ready with the brief, familiar explanation. "It’s a real dog breed… it’s the state dog of South Carolina… bred originally by a man named Whit Boykin from a dog he found outside of church one Sunday, and the name caught my eye because it was so close to mine and . . . " so on. Since I had my card case right there and he was being very nice about his curiosity (not creepy like some of the people who work at gas stations), I showed him a picture of Chappy, and he sounded surprised when he said, "That’s a cute little dog!"

Well, duh. Of course he’s cute. He’s a Boyken/Boykin, right?

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