It’s official. If I blog this much about my dog, I am guaranteed to become one of those insufferable parents who talks about nothing but the every cute doing of their children. Still, the family anticipation of grandchildren is high enough at present that I should be able to get away with it.
At any rate, after my mini-meltdown over the impossibility of ridding the house of dog fur, my husband came home this evening with:
This handy configuration of plastic and stainless steel is vastly overpriced. But they could charge pretty much whatever they wanted. Because this contraption works. I managed to rake an entire dog’s worth of fur out of Nina’s coat in one sitting (well, multiple sittings. Multiple sits, flop downs, stand ups, and follow the dog around the kitchen-s.) There’s an entire 13-gallon trashcan downstairs nearly filled with fur. No exaggeration. And our fuzzy black beastie looks furry as ever…if slightly neater than usual.
The true tale will be told when next I vacuum.