Flash‑Pampered puppy pans one pun too many!

As some students were complaining that they would never get their names in Morfit, our canny canine was wandering the halls of West. All of the sudden some teacher non‑familiaris (not knowing small dog wonders) stopped her in the hall! "See, here," said the taunting tantamount of scholarly endorsement! "What's this wandering around with one of THOSE kinds of haircuts!"

Our daring dog fearlessly said. "I am the newspaper's mascot. I am the Hedda Hopper of dog‑dom! Obviously you do not read the greatest paper in the

"Obviously," said the aforementioned teacher, "You deserve the dean's attention!"

So Mor marched stolidly on to the office trying to keep in mind that a dean is kind‑hearted. (At least that's what a certain teacher says, but he may only be trying to get browny points or a raise or something!)

Teacher non‑familiaris and dedicated disciplinarian met on common ground (about six feet off the floor). Morfit sensed something slightly amiss. She heard our dear friend (not the teacher) say something about school regulations and long hair!

"EEP!" thought Morfit. She blew the graceful tendrils of hair from her eyes. "How would I look in a crew cut?" she whispered. "Ach!" The kind dean looked down at her.

Yes, a short trim was necessary. Not as drastic as a crew cut, though. So if you see a small sassoon running down the hail, you will know who it is.

By the way, Mor, old buddy, we noticed a little something on your left paw? Are you thinking of co‑piloting with the World War I pilot? Begone Red Baron!