Good day. My name is Hair. I am a beautiful strand of Pyrenean Mountain Dog hair: white; soft; wavy; and free! I love travelling, and, today, I will tell you about the scrap I have gotten into.
First of all, let me first introduce myself as one tiny part of that corporate body, namely, the Pyrenean Mountain Dog, a giant breed of pastoral guardian dog. I was birthed on the body of this big fluffy dog. Oh, he is such a friendly kindly dog, and so loves human company. In fact, he loves people more than he loves his doggy companion. For this reason, he loves to lean against his humans, hoping for comforting pats.
One day, I found myself adrift from my home base when that big daft dog tried to climb into his owner’s lap. Now, just imagine a petite 5′ 2″ body sitting quietly on a chair, and a 6′ tall dog standing on its hind legs and trying find purchase as he scrabbles onto the edges of the chair in a bid to cuddle his human! Ridiculous! And I say it again: ridiculous!
As a result of all this tomfoolery, I felt myself free-falling from my host’s body and onto the velvety trousers of his owner. I wasn’t the only strand of hair deposited on the human’s clothing – but I have been one of the lucky ones to escape the lint roller and vacuum cleaner this long while. So I have travelled a bit.
Where did I go? Well, first of all, I went to the computer with Mom. I noticed her typing away and thought I would try and inspire an article about doggy hair by clinging onto her clothing as much as I could. Unfortunately, she was so busy that she ignored my potential as a protagonist in any tale.
Then, Mom decided to take care of some chores. Before that, she went to her bedroom to put some salve on her lips. Whilst doing so, she inadvertently shook me off, and there I fell, stuck to the neck of the lip salve tube. I tried hard to move away from the tube, but the sticky salve would not release me. Each evening, when Mom used the salve, some of the stickiness would escape the nozzle and plaster my poor self even more securely to the tube’s neck. Oh, for a means of escape!
Then, two days ago, I regained my freedom. Mom noticed that something seemed to be sticking to the side of the tube, and tugged at it. That something was me. I was free! I, Hair, am a Houdini when given the opportunity, and here was my big break: as Mom pulled me off the tube, I slipped out from between her fingers and began to fly, fly, fly!
Presently, I am resting in a little cranny until I regain a little more confidence for my next adventure. Mom will never find me here, for I have nestled into a crack between the skirting and floor boards. Mine host has already come sniffing at me but I am determined to ignore him; after all, if I were to hop back up onto his back as a loose hair, I will likely be brushed away and relegated to a bag with all those other loosened hairs later to be chucked out into the dustbin.
I never thought freedom would be this intoxicating, but I am determined to continue my travels. I have heard tales of my compatriots flying around the world, hidden in suitcases and handbags without their owners being any the wiser. Oh! I would so love to see the big wide world. Soon, soon, I will make my bid for freedom again, and travel from this house to the outside world. It is only a matter of time.
Blenheim Lodge . . . panoramic Lake views, peace and tranquillity, nestled against acres of beautiful fields and woodlands, in the heart of the English Lake District National Park.’
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