About once a year, I take Oakley for a “spa day.” I call it that because if I say that awful ‘g’ word (you know….”groomer”), he runs and hides under the bed and will not come out. So on his annual spa day, Oakley gets his hair washed, cut, and styled (with a bow that he despises); his nails trimmed; his teeth cleaned; and something I will not talk about.. Read More
Oakley’s Spa Day
