It seems to us that it takes no time at all for our two little black imps to begin to resemble miniature woolly mammoths. It is, no doubt, a sign of their youth, their health, their diet, that their hair grows so quickly. I can hardly keep up. They've never been professionally groomed. Like our two other little poodles, Button and Riley before Jackie and Jillie, I've always cut their hair myself, and then bathed them. It seemed to work out well and continues to. Though I could never really claim that cutting their hair was a pleasurable task; either for them or for me.

Patience was and is required on both sides. Up to the present time, Jackie betrays his restless nature by fidgeting endlessly while I'm trying to position him to trim his hair properly. Jillie is far more obliging about the process, doing her best to be helpful.

Jackie

Yesterday, since it was a mild day, and also a day of unremitting rain, I thought it was as good a time as any to think about their toilette. So I prepared all the things I need to proceed and began work first on Jackie. To my  grateful astonishment, he behaved inordinately well, the process turned out less of a struggle than usual. And when I was done with him, the little fellow was joyful and manic, tumbling about everywhere in an ecstasy all his own.

Jillie

Then it was his sister's turn, and though it's a time-consuming effort, it seemed to take no time at all before she too was done with, and both looked fairly presentable. Certainly my husband, my kindest critic, thought so. At that point after cleaning up plentiful tufts and piles of black hair and putting away the variety of scissors used in the enterprise, it was time to gather together towels and to run their bath.

Jackie was instantly alert, he knew what was in the offing and he became energetically and vocally excited, racing about and around me as I was preparing everything.  Jillie is never as animated as her brother. She simply sits herself down and pays attention to what's happening. Their attitudes outside the house, when we're out in the ravine on the forest trails, turn quite opposite, with Jillie becoming frantic, barking and racing about and Jackie the calm one.

Jackie was the first to be bathed. Unlike Button before him, whose appreciation for water was obvious in her playfulness with it, he stands utterly still while I lave him and lather him and rinse him. But it is clear enough that the process enthralls him and he finds it enjoyable. The drying is left to my husband who is so much better at it than I am. My husband brings to the drying process a fastidiousness that eludes me; in my zeal to be efficient, I hurry things along and it's never done adequately.

When Jillie's turn came, she was calm and just a tad panicky in the water, trying from time to time, to find an exit by lifting her front paws to the top of the shallow tub. I gently push her back down and continue lathering. All the while Jackie is by my side, leaping and yelping as though I'm killing his sister. When her bath is finished and she's being dried up on the bathroom vanity, Jackie's exertions only increase in velocity and sound.

Finally I've realized what motivates him: jealousy.