So yesterday we finally took our 16 year old border collie to the groomers for a haircut. She desperately needed one and I was so tired of all of the excess fur on the floor as well as the immense panting, so off she went. Her name is Bear and she typically does look like a Bear. See, also note her incredible nack for leaving clumps of her fur wherever she goes.:
But when she returned home after the grooming, this is what she looked like:














She no longer looks like a Bear to me. So I've been calling her Fox all day. :) Now normally old dogs would not all of a sudden start responding to a new name after 16 years of being called something else. But my little Bear-Fox can't hear anything anyway, so she has no idea what I'm calling her, as long as I do it with a smile and a happy tone she's happy.

ah another perk of getting older, you just don't care what people call you, as long as they aren't mean. I've been trying to make a list of the perks of getting older since I just had a birthday 2 days ago and am now officially "in my 30s". I know 31 isn't old, and most of my friends are older than I, but I'm really having a difficult time with this whole age thing. But what bothers me most about it is that I have no idea why it is bothersome. I don't have gray hairs or wrinkles, I have the most wonderful family I could ever imagine, and for the most part I think I'm happy. So what gives? Oh well. Maybe I'll have more insight later. I'm getting off the computer for the day because I need to do laundry and get some stamping done before the little ones wake up from their naps. TTFN.