That which you fear shall come to pass

So, this was that sight that greeted Mother this evening. 

She was not amused. And, I admit the whole tugging, pulling, hair-yanking nonsense day after day to remove the burrs is getting well past old.

I was artistic at least, don't you think? 

Even my braids didn't help much. They did make it easier to comb out, but they still attracted burrs.

Don't forget the back end...

So...

I have been shorn.

Mother says my neck is still nice enough to pull off the no hair look. I blame Mother for my neck not being as pretty as it used to be... my tiny teeny hole hay bag is causing the underside of my neck to become more muscular.

My tail now...

I admit, it is nice to have Mother curry where my mane grows from... the lightness, the freedom. And the flies have been not too bad this year, so I didn't really need all that extra hair, anyway. She said my forelock wasn't helping much when it was just a clump of burrs; I suppose she has a point. And I am really excited to not have to spend anywhere from a quarter of an hour up to two hours an evening being deburred, perhaps unbraided and rebraided... sigh. What price freedom?

I blame it on Fenway Bartholomule, personally. He made it look so chic, how was Mother to resist?