Paw Prints on the Wall

Let’s face it; having three large male dogs is comparable to living in a college frat house.    I have a friend who has a sign hanging in her home that asks, “Why does dog hair stick to everything except the dog?” I have come to realize that the once manageable task of housework has morphed into a colossal exercise in futility. Some say that cleanliness is next to Godliness; but with three dogs those same people would say, “It’s next to impossible!” I could vacuum every four hours and still see hair balls the size of house cats tumbling across the hardwood floor on their way to a permanent home under some immovable piece of furniture.

I’m in constant competition with the legions of dog hair in my home. I vacuum, I shake out rugs, I’ve even resorted to firing up the leaf blower, but there is no winning over this ubiquitous adversary. Furthermore, ignoring it is no answer. Dog hair has an incredibly long shelf life!   In my world, vacuum cleaners are almost as disposable as Dixie cups. I have yet to find an affordable vacuum with the horsepower to contend with the mountains of dog hair that reside in my area rugs alone. I have vivid memories of the passing of one particular cleaning appliance, a sturdy, bagless vacuum of the upright persuasion. After sucking up bushels of dog hair over a two-year period she began to protest, emitting puffs of smoke from her motor. I coaxed her along for months. I finally decided she should hang up her hepafilter when preparation for vacuuming first required the disarming of all smoke alarms.  I am quick to blame any lack of hygiene in my house on my dogs. After all, I’ve always had at least one “German Shedder” sharing my home. One story of my dog Sadie puts household cleanliness into proper perspective:

It was the sorrowful day that Sadie, my forever dog, told me she was ready to go on to Heaven’s Big Back Yard. I called in a couple of close friends for comfort and a kindly, compassionate veterinarian to help Sadie on her final journey. As the vet was preparing the injection, she advised that I might want to place a towel under Sadie to protect the rug in case there was anything in her system she wouldn’t be taking with her. I replied, “No, that’s OK. This rug has been chewed on, pooped on, peed and puked on.” To that, my friend Marla quietly added, “And that was before she had dogs!”
Hair isn’t the only cleaning challenge presented by dogs. Two of my three dogs have long hair and extra fluffy bedroom slipper feet. This means that every time they come in from the back yard, they are proudly wearing their respective leaf collections. Maybe I need to rethink that leaf blower idea.  Preserving the landscape is another challenge of living with the pack. Visible areas of my property are kept looking respectable, but the section relegated to the dogs looks like a government missile testing site. However, explosives are not the source of numerous gigantic holes that punctuate my yard. My dogs love to dig. I think at least one of them is part backhoe with latent agricultural tendencies. My neighbors and I are thankful for privacy fences.  I once thought it would be a good idea to have the dogs help me with a tree-planting project. All three were supervising me while I began to dig with my trusty shovel. The looks they gave me seemed to say, “No, Mom. You’re doing it wrong!” So, I tossed aside my shovel and said, “OK, guys. Go for it!” Jumping wholeheartedly into the task, they began to paw furiously, dirt flying high. But, not more than a minute into the excavation, the excitement turned to rabid competition with an all out brawl ensuing. Who ever said that gardening is therapeutic? My back yard still resembles a war zone, but for now, I’m content with that.
My battleground of a back yard is also where you’ll find the eternal predicament of the poop land mines. Three large dogs make for an abundance of well, crap. When it comes to dog waste management I allow myself the luxury of hiring someone else for the proverbial poop patrol. Yes, this wonderful service is actually available. I nod to the entrepreneurial genius that made it possible for me to avoid dealing with one dirty job. Now we humans are disgusted by excrement, but dogs are actually proud of their biological accomplishments. Thus, when the scoop technician arrives at my gate every Wednesday morning, my dogs go into a protective, frenetic display. I’m pretty sure they are saying, “He’s moving my poop! He’s moving my poop!” “I worked really hard on that one.”
So goes the never-ending quest: My dream of a clean environment and my dogs’ collective aspirations to smash that dream.
So I lay down my vacuum and give in to the grime. After all, I live in a cozy 1,000 sq. ft. house with about 650 sq. ft. of dog! I could have a spotless home, but that would also mean being “Spot-less”. That, my friend, is not an option!

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