Finally, after much argument and a mop of hair that came dangerously close to covering his eyes, Gage got a haircut, something he had been avoiding for weeks.
Against his will and amidst his cries I picked him and and set him up on my bathroom counter and cut until I could see little forehead once again. As much as I love the Beatles, Gage was just not meant to rock the mop top.
Introducing the pound new owner of one rad mohawk.
Next ... get some spiking gel and inflict this bad to the bone mohawk on the world!