Today I frinked out acause when Momma gotted home from work, she did not look like my Momma what so all. She hadded a real honky-tonk of a new hair-do. I axed her, what did that groomer done to yous head, Momma? And she beed all cited, talkin like a butterfly, sayin', doesn't ya likes my new hair, Georgie? Doesn't ya thinks I looks younger? Does ya likes the colour? So, a course I sayed, oh, yes, Momma, you looks nice, and young, and colourful; acause she bees stuck with that hair now, anyhows. But behind my back I beed thinkin', how would you gonna likes it if you leaves yous handsome boxer dog in the mornin', and when you comes home, I bees a curly-headed mess of a poodle what's even the wrong colour for a poodle? Prawly not so much. Poor Momma. Some time, she just don't know.