The hairs on my noggin are now eight months old. We’re in some kind of almost-final stretch. We’re at least over the hump on our way to my “grown-out” fur. The way my hairs are these days, it looks like a massacre took place right atop my head. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.
Bow Tie o’ the Day is bravely lending a hand to brighten up the hairs situation with its sequins. At least, Bow Tie’s trying to make things appear better. The only thing that really has any sorta beautifying effect on my fur through all of this is to wear hats and bandanas, of which I have plenty.
I made a decision. Hear me clearly: I will suffer through this terrifyingly hairy growth until May, and then it’s gone. That will make it a year since my last haircut. That’s all you get to see: a year more hair than I’ve had for a decade. Of course, I’ll try a couple o’ different hairdos before I chop it all off again. Those oughta be hilarious for you to see.