Balio has been building up a pretty impressive mane of dreads, locked together with the seeds of a thousand prairie plants. He’s a bear to groom, biting and pawing at me the entire time. I soon recognize that combing out this quagmire is not a viable option and grab the scissors. Time for a haircut, Beesif. I wrestle and snip as tufts of white take flight across the farm. Pinning down this beastly creature, I try to remember him as the little fluff ball of a puppy I brought home. I’m sure he’ll find a convenient burdock patch tomorrow, but he was due for a reset.





Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *