I actually had a moment on Saturday when I looked around my house and thought that it seemed pretty clean.
And then the late afternoon sun came through the sliding glass door in the back at such an angle that I could see all the dog hair on the wood floor. Well, out comes the vacuum and a few minutes later the hair was gone.
Until, of course, Kate woke up, stretched and shook. Then the hair was back.
It's never really gone, you know. I can vacuum and sweep and Swiffer till the cows come home and my house will never be clean, really clean. (Come to think of it, if the cows came home, that would be a whole other kind of dirty.)
Kate is a shedder — big time.
Black pants? Forget it.
Navy blue sweater? Deal with it.
I'm constantly sticky-rollering and picking at hairs.
And having had Kate for over 11 years now, I could have knitted three or four dogs from all the hair she has left on the floor, rugs, couch, bed and kitchen counters (still trying to figure that one out). On wash days, the lint trap in my dryer alone could yield a dog the size of a Pomeranian.
Kate's shedding problem is the reason I have her. But that is a story for another time.
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try living with an alaskan/malamute mix. it's like the wild animals at the zoo right now. oh, and i forgot to mention the mutt, doberman, and two cats--wait, that's three cats. the child that moved out couldnt' keep the cat. i need to buy stock in the swiffer co.
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