Friends, I think many of you know Stella and her family in Minnesota (and if you don't you really should).
Well recently Stella's Mom Jo posted about the issue of certain people - very stupid ones in our opinion - not wanting to adopt black dogs in the USA, something that we believe is a problem too on this side of the Pond.
Stella herself is a borador with the most beautiful luxuriant and glossy black coat, one any right thinking dog would envy. I have in the past caught Gail looking at Stella's picture on the computer and reaching over to stroke her before remembering that she is just looking at a bunch of pixels on a screen and that Stella herself is nearly four thousand miles away.
I digress. What I really want to talk about today is my coat.
As you know, I have a paw in both camps on the colour issue. In fact, three camps, with my mostly russet head.
When I was a wee pup, I was soft and fluffy, although even then, a certain incipient stiffness to my coat could be detected. Now that I am a fully fledged adult, my coat is coarse and wiry, both waterproof and conveniently suitable for chasing through the sort of brambly undergrowth where humans hesitate to follow.
But I can't help noticing that the texture of my black patch is rather different from the white bits, and my head is different again.
For example, when my back is being hand-stripped, the black hairs come out much more easily than the white ones, and are in general finer and dryer. If Gail applied as much effort to my 'saddle' as she does to stripping my neck area, then my much admired black patch would be reduced to the occasional sorry looking tuft. Then there's my russet ears. (Not 'ginger', please.) They are quite silky, not that different from my flat-coated retriever chum Jake. Moving down my long and distinguished snout, the reddish brown colour fades, and the texture becomes more woolly, or, if you are being rude, frizzy. Gail tries to hand strip this area too, which I don't mind at all, but inevitably she resorts to scissors as she says the fur around my face and eyes just wants to stay fixed to my skin. Obviously, my splendid beard is left alone.
I am very curious to know whether my friends, especially the multi-coloured ones, also have variably textured coats?
Perhaps, if you can provide enough data, I might consider a scientific treatise on the matter.
Plus, it would be nice to know that I am not a freak.
PS This blog will be quiet for a couple of weeks as Gail is going off cycling on the continent with her London-based friends (including 'midges' Michael, boo hiss) and I am going to 'camp'.
Menolyrical; Final Friday Fiction
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