Sometimes I think my mom is far too into my appearance.   I’m cute.  Let’s face it.  It’s undeniable.  Cute is what I do.  It’s who I am. Some would say it’s in my DNA.  Everyone at the Starbucks, at parks, etc. tells me mom how cute I am.  And she beams with pride.  And my mom tells me constantly how cute I am.  

But sometimes my mom’s desire for me to maintain the cute drives me crazy.  This morning, for example.

We were on our regular morning walk.  Mom was a little slower than usual (perhaps as a result of not enough sleep….but I digress).  We were walking around the neighborhood and I was busy sniffing at plants, chewing the leaves (they are an excellent source of fiber, folic acid, and vitamin B).  I was doing the stuff all dogs do.  My nose caught wind of a particularly odorific leaf and I moved in to get a better sniff.  In the course of doing this, I ended up with a LOT of tiny bramble-y burr things all over my head.  COOL!!!  Suddenly I looked tough!  I felt macho.  No Doberman or Rottie would mess with me and all the ladies would swoon. 

I don’t mind being cute, but do you realize how hard it is to be “cute” when you’re a guy?!  Have you seen me?  There are Muppets who strike more fear into people’s hearts than I do.  Being cute is a curse when you’re a male dog. Consequently, I loved the way the bramble-y burr things looked on me.  I looked tough. I had street cred. And most importantly, I wasn’t cute.

But my newfound confidence and persona were short-lived.  As soon as we got back from the walk, my mom whipped out the brush and meticulously removed every last one of those bramble-y burr things.  She combed through my hair to find even the tiniest ones that had embedded themselves in my ears.  Just as quickly as I’d gotten my street cred, my mom took it away.   

*Sigh*

I guess I’ll go back to being cute.