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The door to the barbershop was open, to let in some of that cool air that is readily available in the early morning, right before the day turns into a real scorcher, though I could have told Fido Siniawski, our local barber, that he probably should close the door, for the air streaming in was getting really hot, the day advancing already nicely. Only two customers were inside, one being subjected to Fido’s signature treatment, the other patiently waiting in the waiting area and thumbing through a copy of Cosmo.

“Any new gossip?” I asked straight out of the gate. Buster is one of our main sources of gossip in Hampton Cove. He usually knows what’s happening, since all the movers and shakers of our town at some point or another find themselves seated in Fido’s chair, and many of the non-movers and non-shakers, too.

“Nothing special,” said Buster with a sad look. “Place has been buzzing but that doesn’t mean there’s also a lot of interesting stuff being said. The Mayor was in here only yesterday. She’s going for a complete makeover. New hair, new clothes, even a new face, if her secretary is to be believed—she was in here right after the Mayor left.”

“Mayor Butterwick is getting a new face?” asked Dooley. “You mean they will remove her old face and give her a completely new one?”

“It can be done. With plastic surgery. Nowadays they can do pretty much anything with plastic surgery. New nose, cheek implants, changing the shape of the jaw…”

“But what was wrong with her old face?” asked Dooley. “I liked it just the way it was, and so, I think, did Uncle Alec.”

Odelia’s uncle has been dating our mayor for the past couple of weeks now, and by all accounts they’re a great couple. Though judging from this little bit of news Buster had to impart maybe things weren’t so great after all, if Charlene felt the need to go for an extreme makeover.

“And what if Uncle Alec doesn’t recognize her anymore?” Dooley continued. “Or doesn’t like her new look?”

He was right, of course. A man starts dating a woman, and in the middle of the process she suddenly changes appearance to such an extent it’s almost as if he’s dating a completely different woman. Not fair, if you see what I mean—and very confusing.

“I’m just telling you what I heard,” said Buster with a shrug. “And then of course there’s Wilbur Vickery, who was in here last night, and shocked us all when he asked Fido to shave off his beard.”

Dooley and I were shocked, too.“Wilbur shaved off his beard!” I cried, aghast. Wilbur Vickery had been the proud owner of a long and flowing white beard. Though when I say white I’m probably not painting the right word picture. It’s more of a dirty yellow, like the teeth and fingers of a heavy smoker. And it doesn’t really flow—it kinda bristles.

“I think it’s a good thing,” said Dooley. “Beards are filthy. And Wilbur’s beard more filthy than most.”

“Things always seem to get stuck in Wilbur’s beard,” I agreed. “Crumbs of food, cigarette ashes, nasal mucus… I think I once even saw a prawn dangling in there, and I could be wrong but I think I heard it scream, so it might have been caught alive.”

“Well, rejoice, fellas,” said Buster with customary glee. “Cause Wilbur’s beard is now a thing of the past, thanks to Fido’s able hands, and the power of the razor blade.”

I tucked these two tidbits of information in my memory for regurgitation at a later date to my human. Odelia might not want to write an article about Wilbur’s beard and Charlene Butterwick’s extreme makeover, but then again she might. The Hampton Cove Gazette is one of those small-town rags, and small-town rags don’t always go for the big breaking stories but focus on the small stuff, much to their readers’ delight, I might add.

“There’s something very important we need to ask you, Buster,” I said now, the necessary preliminaries dispensed with.

He placed a paw on my shoulder.“Say no more, Max. Of course you can have a whiff of Fido’s WindBlaster 5000. Superior technology combined with the most powerful motor in fan history. Get a load of this.” And with a flick of the paw, he turned a switch on the biggest fan I’ve ever seen in my life. Immediately it was as ifa hurricane had landed right in the middle of Fido’s shop: the blades were moving the air to such a degree that it was all I could do not to be swept up like a feather and blown back against the wall.

“AND I CAN CRANK IT UP EVEN MORE!” Buster yelled over the noise the blades cutting through the air made. And to show us he meant what he said, he cranked it up, as promised, and this time I did start being blown backward, and so was Dooley. Soon I was scrambling for any object in the vicinity to keep me from flying away. My cheeks were flapping in the breeze, my eyes were tearing up and closing, and I had the distinct sensation that my fur was being removed by the sheer force of the air displacement.