Having finally tamed Duke enough to get close to him, I made the horrifying discovery that his entire fleece from last year, which I thought just hadn’t shed, had in fact felted. The poor guy was coated in three-inch-thick layer of felt in 90° August weather. No wonder he was being such a lazy mini-buffalo!
He’s not quite convinced he can trust me near him with sharp objects, so we’ve developed a bizarre ritual wherein he presses up against the kennel panels and I hack away at the felt with blunt kitchen scissors. Because this of course makes the whole thing so much more fun.
Eventually he gets bored of the exercise and runs away with just a little bit more of his dead wool carved away. And I take embarrassing pictures of his bad haircut and put them online. 🙂