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Yesterday I finally had a chance to vacuum my floors. We’ve been so busy and have barely been home that I haven’t had time to clean, so I’ve been walking over our hardwood floors noticing more and more black dog hairs. In fact, the floor had begun to look like it had a black flecked pattern. And I say I vacuumed my floors because I did not get to the upstairs couch, which no one can sit on at the moment without becoming covered in black hair.

I bought a Rumba, which handles dog and cat hair nicely, but the battery is dead and I haven’t ordered a new one. Too busy.

When my dog was struck by a truck nearly ten years ago, I felt an emptiness in the house. One morning I saw a spot on the news where they featured pets from the pound. There was a cute, small, short-haired adult dog there. I sent my husband to the pound. He came home with a six-month-old, medium-sized dog with an extremely dense mid-length coat. I immediately began moaning about shedding and vacuuming hair. “They said she won’t shed. It’s thick, but it stays on.” Hmmpph.

They were right that she doesn’t shed as badly as the worst offenders, but twice a year, she drops so much hair, I can’t believe she’s not bald. Spring, when her winter coat comes off, is one of those times.

Our other dog is also black–not on purpose. She was a little stray who just walked in our door. Literally. One legendarily cold February day she came in, ribs poking out, whining and shivering, when my husband opened the door thinking it was our dog scratching to come in. She has short hair, but seems to lose more than my thick-coated dog.

So maybe I should hire a housecleaner, at least from March to July. Or make a preemptive strike and shave my dogs.

Or maybe not.