My legs have grown three inches.

I know I am an exemplary example of my breed, the West Highland White Terrier. Note my pure white, wiry double coat with a hard outer layer and soft undercoat, my alert, erect ears, my chocolate dark, almond-shaped eyes, my sturdy, compact body and deep chest. And, of course, my short, straight tail carried high. Westies are small, active dogs known for their courage, confidence, and strong terrier personality.  

I have all this is perfect abundance. We also have short legs which is why we are so close to the ground and our long hair skirt sometimes touches the ground. That was me. It doesn't stop me from running very fast to keep up with bigger dogs like greyhounds or chasing birds and other vermin. I can hold my own, short legs notwithstanding.

Then I went to the groomer and came out with legs three inches longer.

Honest. Three inches.

She, my human mum, didn't take me to the groomer when she should have done. Then when she tried to make an appointment with my favourite groomer who is the bestest Westie cutter in the world, we had to wait another month.

So, when I finally got to the groomer my hair was very long. Gloriously pearlescent white and long but I was starting to look like a Maltese and Lhasa Apso cross.

The groomer shook her head and said my hair was starting to mat under my armpits and she recommended a cut back and start again for my coat.

I came out looking five years younger (given I am now just over five years old, I looked like a wee pup and I felt more playful with all that hair gone).

But what really surprised me was that my legs had grown.

Instead of my stumpy leglets, I had long lithe legs, well, long for a Westie. Nothing compared to a Greyhound or a Saluki but long for a Westie.

I am getting used to my long legs. I know they won't last forever, especially if she doesn't take me to the groomer regularly.