I Vacuumed the Dog

* I am trying something new… I’ve attached my first attempt at audio.  I realize it’s rough in places.  I thought I’d share to get some feedback.  In the future, I will attach the links at the bottom of the story.  🙂

 

The amount of hair around this house is daunting.  Thinking of all the dogs my family has had throughout the years, I do not recall any of them shedding as much as my darling Toots. (and believe me, my mother had her work cut out for her with all the animals my sisters and I brought home…)  There’s no hiding or camouflaging white fur.  (I swear it’s fluorescent.)

Every other day it takes an hour to vacuum.  When the television screen begins to dull, I know it is time.  Static electricity holds a maize of fur in place.  If the sun shines through the window just right, fly-aways can be seen floating on sunbeams – especially if Toots happens to shake or scratch nearby.  Most times, the kids take her outside to brush her, and yes, even my yard takes a 20140731_144627beating.DSC_4595  One might think that every bird nest in our neighborhood would be fur-lined… but they are not. 

A few days ago, during a rain storm, I got ready to vacuum.  (I need to give myself a pre-vacuum pep talk…)  Going through the process of vacuuming, without brushing her first, is counter productive.  It seems, as soon as she sees the nice clean rug, she rolls around the area to re-claim her turf.  Cute – but not happening… at least not till she is somewhat de-furred. Given that the wet-dog prospect is worse than the tumbleweed prospect – and the kids were at school, I had a genius thought.  Why not vacuum the dog?  I’m sure I’m not the first person that came up with this genius plan… 

Sitting obediently at my feet, Toots stared straight forward while I literally hoovered hair.  She was wary to move.  From time to time she would avert her eyes, as if to say, ‘I can’t believe the crap I have to put up with!’  I massaged her entire body with clawed fingers, hoping to separate as much hair from her flesh as possible — short of ripping the hair out. 

She was getting into the groove.  A puppy massage is always a good thing.  Soon she nuzzled up to me, as if to say, ‘Thanks Ma, that feels so good… this isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be…’  

I leaned in, to kiss her back – not paying attention to the end of the hose – paying more attention to the growing pile of white fluff that now encircled us… and sucked her ear right into the nozzle.  I know this from the sudden flag flapping sound and shocked quizzical expression on her face.  

I quickly pulled the hose away, but it was too late – the love affair was over.  Glaring at me as if to say, ‘What the hell is wrong with you woman!?’  She went back to averting her eyes – and I can’t repeat what she was thinking.

(Oh please.  She has put up with worse and survived… Like the time Alex, at around 14 years old, figured out that if you grab her snout and angle her nostrils just right, you can get a similar sound as blowing into an empty bottle.  For some reason Toots still loves this child. Something tells me, she will forgive me…) (Treats help) {Yes, I gave her several…} 

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