Mother was up and brushing me the other day. Even though the weather is still wintry, she noted I am starting to loose hair.
Half the fun for Mother of my greyness is that she never knows exactly what I will look like once I am done shedding. My mane, tail, and sort of my legs have been hanging on to their darkness, but the rest of me is varying stages of fleabitten and vaguely dappled.
It's good to keep her guessing... and apparently you, as well, as the last picture she's taken of me is from early October:
How am I supposed to be a super-model if my photographer never has a camera?