White Dog was in the office with Steve trying to figure out why the shaver was not working. They had replaced batteries, opened up and cleaned every part accessible, and had tapped the device against the edge of the desk. It just would not turn on and hum.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, an impromptu celebration was taking shape. "Whew, that was a close one, momma!" "I thought for a minute you were going to be shorn like a sheep!" "Don't change, momma, I love you like you are!"
"My loves," I told them, "the haircut is MUCH needed. I thought I had spiders on my ears the other day and it was just my long hair tickling me in the fan breeze. I am ready to shave it off but apparently the shaver is having doubts."
Steve walked in. "Haircut Day has been rescheduled. I cannot figure out what the problem is. I ordered a new one. As soon as it arrives we will buzz you; worst case if I can get our old one working, is that we will have a backup."
"Yeay, momma, you've been saved! Let's celebrate with treats," said Roman poking his face in through the dog door (he had been hiding safely in the back of the yard).
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