Saturday, October 25, 2008

No, it Isn't Snow

It's dog hair.

Yes, it's that time of year once more: Shedding season.

"What's this?" you say? "A dog, shedding in the fall? But spring is the time of year for dogs to molt!"

To you doubters, I say "Pooh"--right after I spit out a mouthful of dog hair.

Every October my fat, stupid, lazy, coffee table of a dog drops her entire coat. Yes, her entire coat. Like any fashionista, she is unsatisfied with merely expanding her current wardrobe--twice a year, she requires a completely new one.

This means for about three weeks, the rest of us are forced to wade through drifts of soft, ivory fluff that aspire to the ceiling. Woe betide the child who climbs sticky-fingered onto the sofa. We hostages to the hair wear dark colors at our own peril. Why, just this morning, I couldn't get the F on my keyboard to function. The problem? A matt of dog hair stuck under the key.

There's dog hair in the butter dish, dog hair in my freezer, dog hair sprouting from the window screens, dog hair stuck to my mascara wand. And yet there is still, defying all laws of physics and common sense, dog hair on the dog. I can brush her for hours, harvesting bales of the stuff, and three and a half minutes later she'll wander by in a cloud of freshly molted fur, depositing her dubious bounty on every piece of furniture within fifty feet.

I have fought this biannual war of attrition with a multitude of inadequate weapons: brooms, dog-combs and vacuum cleaners, lint-rollers and sticky tape. I have even considered applying a generous coat of spar varnish to the dog so the whole mass comes off in one, solid shell. But this year, I simply no longer have the energy to fight. I concede defeat. The hair wins.

I'm not even going to vacuum until the saturation bombardment of dog-follicles ceases. The battle is unwinnable, so why even try?

If any of you all are looking for me, I'll be under the dog hair until the second week of November.


MB (Leah) said...

I know it's cruel since you live in the North Pole, but why don't you shave him just before it happens and buy him a nice sweater to wear until it grows back.

kirsten saell said...

Heheh. I can't even get her to behave while I cut her toenails. I can only imagine how she'd react to me trying to shear her.

She's part golden retriever, too, so her skin is very loose. I can just see her with a bad buzzcut, with tiny little pieces of toilet paper stuck to all the nicks.

I'd kick her outside, but it's COLD out there (not quite the North Pole, but still cold). And she's almost 12, and arthritic. Poor fat dog...

Delia DeLeest said...

I can totally relate, we used to have two full grown collies in the house. I burned out 2 vacuum cleaners. Even after the dogs were gone, I was STILL finding hair. The only way I got rid of it all was by moving to another house. lol

kirsten saell said...

LOL, Delia! Maybe I should move. My BFF has one of those dogs whose hair forms big tumbleweeds that blow across the floor. I wish.

My dog's hair has this bizarre property where instead of forming into balls, it repels itself. Anyone who's ever tried to sweep up after their kid picked apart a styrofoam packing form will know what I'm talking about. The stuff will not sit in a pile together.

And I the way it interweaves into fabric? Sheesh, it's even in my bra. I think I'd have to move and get all new furniture. Not that I would mind...

laughingwolf said...

hot dog, on a barbie? :O lol j/k