Myrtle Scissorhands...

Those are my ears.

Seriously, all that fluffy stuff and the bits not even in the picture and the chucks cut last night are my ears.

Myrtle likes to keep me cut short, even though she revels in my curls.  It is easier for her to care for me that way because as great as my curls are, when they get the slightest bit long, they mat.

Only, she's been keeping my neck hair longer because she says that my neck is too small for my body.  Myrtle has NOTHING to speak when it comes to things being too small.  Her head is WAY too small for her body.  I never mention this to her.  And yet she not only tells me about my neck, but she mentions her errant opinion to others.  SIGH.  [Good thing that I know what a handsome fellow I really am.]

Well, her unkind words have come home to roost.

There we were, last night, snuggling and all of a sudden, Myrtle starts feeling all over the back of my neck.  She sits up, starts muttering colorful metaphors.  Before I realized what was happening, my gentle puppy mom morphed into Myrtle Scissorhands.

She snipped and snipped and snipped until my neck hair was barely a quarter of an inch.  She then snipped off the back of both of my ears.  They are naked!

I thought my ordeal was over.  Oh, was I ever wrong.

Myrtle asked me if I wanted to go outside.  Because a fellow can always do a little business, I trotted out to my doom, completely unsuspecting of the torture awaiting me once I finished watering one of the bushes.  Myrtle pulled me up in her lap, showered me with kisses, murmured several apologies, and then picked up this metal instrument of pain and started dragging it through my ears.  My ears!

TWO HOURS LATER, Myrtle finally released me.  My ears were sopping wet from all the detangler stuff she constantly sprayed as she raked that thing through the hair on my ears over and over and over again.  All that fluffy stuff you see was my ears. My ears are lying on the ground...no longer attached to my body where they belong!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!

Okay...I still have some of my ears left.  Less than half what they were before Myrtle started in on them.  And, well, they are no longer two matted lumps aside my head covered by a layer of curls. They are now back to their silky soft fluffy wonderfulness.  Still...would you do that to someone you purportedly loved? Would you torture him remorselessly for hours on end?

SIGH.


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!