A few years ago on the very night before my 35th birthday (I think), my husband calls me at work to inform me that when I got home that night (I was working evenings then) there would be a 4 legged creature to greet me, so I should not be alarmed.
He made sure to explain further (because at this time I was not the least bit interested in being a dog owner again) that we could return this 4 legged fuzzy beast to its current owner if he wasn't a good fit for our family.
Keep in mind that I have two boys, who are very much interested in fuzzy things and easily fall in love with creatures that lick your face.
I was already groaning in agony at the fur balls that would no doubt be clogging up the vacuum in the near future. Thank goodness we have a Dyson.
And that's how we got Charlie.
His middle name is Chewbacca for the obvious likeness...And so we fast forward our story two years later to yesterday when he was getting a routine clipper trim from the huz when *gasp* the clippers broke. Our beloved Charlie Chewbacca was left with what can only be described as a canine mullet.
Here he is looking handsome by the veg garden prior to the clipper failure.
And here he is after our friends at Wag N Wash did their best to even out the crazy half-done clipper do.
His fur is the softest it has ever been. But the poor little guy is just a shadow of his former scrappy self.
And I'm pretty sure no one can see the Chewbacca in his name. At least until it grows back in. Until then, he'll just be Charlie.
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