Klutzy Love by Sharon Kleve Page B

auburn hair I had ever seen. The hair he had in seventh grade couldn’t compare to this.
    In a split second, I scanned him from head-to-toe and noticed a few other things he changed in his appearance. There was a sign of Botox injections, maybe liposuction in the chin, and possibly a tummy tuck too.
    I had given him a big squeeze and his mid-section felt exceptionally firm. He must have a man-girdle on. That was the topper and I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut any longer, “Holy cow, what kind of work did you have done? Tell me everything? Don’t leave anything out.”
    He chuckled. “Corny, you haven’t changed at all. You still say whatever’s on your mind.”
    He avoided my questions—bummer. “Go right in and meet Simon. He’s in the family room. I’ll be right in with a warm plate of chocolate chip cookies and milk.”
    There was the saddest excuse for a dog in front of the TV I’d ever seen. He hadn’t sensed my presence. To the trained psychic eye, it seemed as if Simon spoke along with the TV announcer. I interrupted his dialogue, “Hey there little guy, what are you watching?”
    “Lady, could you lend me $200.00 bucks? The TV advertised that Rogaine would grow my hair back. I’ve never had any hair, but I’m desperate.”
    I was stunned; this wasn’t what I had expected. “Why do you want hair—you’re a hairless dog?
    “I’m skinny, bald, and cold.” He looked at me as though I was nuts.
    He had a big attitude for such a tiny dog and he was right about the skinny and bald part. “Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”
    “Isn’t it obvious why I want hair? I want to be warm and a have the dignity that comes with having full, luscious hair. Look at my owner; he puts on that wonderful, soft mop every morning before he takes me for a walk. Everyone looks and comments on what great hair he has, then I see them snicker at me. The worst part is, I’ve been cold my whole life. The only time I’m warm is when my owner let’s me sleep with his mop. I love that mop, but it’s his mop, not mine.”
    “Rogaine is made for humans, not dogs. It could make you sick and you’d still be bald. I’ll talk to Mr. Kettle about getting you warm dog clothes. That should temporarily help you with being cold, but I’m not sure about your hair.”
    “Okay, but what if he thinks I’m too much trouble and gets rid of me like my last owner did?”
    “Mr. Kettle loves you and that’s why he brought me here to talk to you.”
    This was either an easy fix or a very hard one. It depended on how Mr. Kettle reacted. I found him in the kitchen, wringing his hands. “ Corny, break it to me gently—I’m an old man. What did Simon say?”
    “If you want to keep him happy, then you’ll have to make adjustments.”
    “Absolutely, that’s why I called you. I love the little guy, but he seems sad.”
    “For one thing, you need to buy him a wardrobe of warm doggy clothes because he’s cold and that’s only part of the reason why he’s not happy. The other part is he’s embarrassed because he doesn’t have any hair.”
    Mr. Kettle was confused. “But Simon’s a hairless dog; it’s a breed thing.”
    “Simon watched a commercial on Rogaine and wanted to buy a case. He’s desperate.”
    “Oh my, it makes sense now. He likes to sleep with a particular item of mine. A special friend of mine opened a unique dog store in Bellevue called Pampered Pooches and it caters to the devoted dog owner. I can buy him all kinds of cute doggie clothes. As far as the hair goes, I could get him fitted with his own hairpiece. If he wants, we can have matching red hair and I bet two- sided hypoallergenic tape would secure it to his little head.”
    “Simon, what do you think about his idea? Would it make you happy?”
    That was a no-brainer. Simon jumped up and down. “You got your answer Mr. Kettle; he’s excited about shopping with you tomorrow. Red would be wonderful. It’s his favorite color.”
    For my