Clyde at Haircut Friday
Clyde got to go to Haircut Friday today. He did not really enjoy it.
For those of you who do not know, my family has a weird tradition where we drive over an hour every 4 weeks to get our hair cut by Bev at Headliners in Marion, Indiana. I like to tell people it's more about having a regular opportunity to eat dinner with my grandparents, who live there, but we don't always do that. Sometimes we just drive a really long way to get our hair cut.
Bev's been doing my grandma's hair forever. When we lived in Georgia, I remember visiting the salon during summer vacation so she could put highlights in my hair, and when we moved to Indianapolis, we started coming on a regular basis. It's cheaper than it would be in Indy, and though it means my entire Friday evening is pretty much a wash, it's time spent with my parents and usually dinner with some extended family. At this point, Bev is a family friend; my mom gives her a Christmas present each year, and it was a given that she'd do my hair for my wedding -- she told me she woke up in the middle of the night with a vision of what my hair should look like.
So this Haircut Friday, with Michael gone and Clyde already having been by himself all day while I was at work, I decided to bring him along.
Whenever we take him someplace new, he spends most of the time being anxious because he thinks we're going to leave him. For the first hour (yes, we're at the hairdresser's for more than an hour), he went back and forth between my dad and I, getting upset whenever we stopped petting him. Then he'd sit and stare at the door. After awhile, though, he warmed up to things and started to explore -- there are lots of interesting smells in a hair salon.
Here he is trying to ask my dad why we're not in the car.
For those of you who do not know, my family has a weird tradition where we drive over an hour every 4 weeks to get our hair cut by Bev at Headliners in Marion, Indiana. I like to tell people it's more about having a regular opportunity to eat dinner with my grandparents, who live there, but we don't always do that. Sometimes we just drive a really long way to get our hair cut.
Bev's been doing my grandma's hair forever. When we lived in Georgia, I remember visiting the salon during summer vacation so she could put highlights in my hair, and when we moved to Indianapolis, we started coming on a regular basis. It's cheaper than it would be in Indy, and though it means my entire Friday evening is pretty much a wash, it's time spent with my parents and usually dinner with some extended family. At this point, Bev is a family friend; my mom gives her a Christmas present each year, and it was a given that she'd do my hair for my wedding -- she told me she woke up in the middle of the night with a vision of what my hair should look like.
So this Haircut Friday, with Michael gone and Clyde already having been by himself all day while I was at work, I decided to bring him along.
Whenever we take him someplace new, he spends most of the time being anxious because he thinks we're going to leave him. For the first hour (yes, we're at the hairdresser's for more than an hour), he went back and forth between my dad and I, getting upset whenever we stopped petting him. Then he'd sit and stare at the door. After awhile, though, he warmed up to things and started to explore -- there are lots of interesting smells in a hair salon.
Here he is trying to ask my dad why we're not in the car.
Here he is trying to get Bev to pay attention to him.
I don't think most people have a hairdresser who would let them bring their dog, but at this point, I think my family has more dogs that have met Bev than dogs that haven't. We're not weird.