When I checked email this morning I had an intriguing voicemail notice. I returned the call — from 9:00 last night. It appears I will be diving into a very messy, and very high profile, criminal case. That’s what I do, you know — for a living. So I called the woman who has been cutting my hair since 1981 and wormed into her Saturday schedule. I figured if I was going to be bombarded by the media I ought to at least have my hair neatly trimmed. Holmes’ Puppy Foundations Class was scheduled right after the haircut, so I brought him along. He gamboled through Camille’s space, checked out boxes, met Ted (Camille’s husband) who broke down into baby talk when he saw the puppy.
Holmes had plenty to look at and someone to play with, but when the first lock of my hair fell to the floor, he barked, raced over and pounced on it. He grabbed it in his mouth and ran around the room with it. I think it was his first kill. I love a dog who given lemons will make lemonade — every time. Go Holmes baby!
