Hair Today…

How come no one told me about puppy fur?

What I really mean is, why didn’t I know that, within a few months of getting our adorable, cuddly, fluffy puppies, all that adorable, cuddly fluffy fluff would fall out and drift around the house like a helium-powered magic carpet.

It’s everywhere. All the time. Regardless of broom action or vacuum ventures. I thought cat hair (especially eight-cat hair) was annoying, but puppy hair is in a league of its own.

When I first noticed a big pile of light golden fluff resting next to the skirting board I tried to put a lead on it to take it for a walk. It didn’t want to come. That’s how I knew it wasn’t a real puppy. “Simon….I think the puppies are cloning themselves – starting with their hair”. Seriously….how can there be so much on the floor (and walls, and tables, and chairs) and yet the puppies not be completely bald?

For a little while I worried that due to our obvious neglect and mistreatment, the hairy pair had contracted stress-related alopecia. But a little googling reassured me that for many breeds, this is just a normal stage in puppy development – like losing their baby teeth (which also freaked me out when I first found Rufus chewing happily on something crunchy, which turned out to be one of his own errant premolars).

It didn’t really happen to Max when he was a puppy. Although it may have and we may have just not noticed. Being a Rhodesian Ridgeback, his hair is very short and not at all fluffy. It behaves more like small needles that weave their way into the fabric of your clothes and carpets in an irritatingly prickly and unyielding manner.

So it seems we are doomed to a house full of footloose hair for the foreseeable future, and we await the growth of our hounds’ adult coats with interest and bated breath (so as to avoid fur-induced respiratory illness). They already have very different coats and Rufus is losing his puppy fur at a much faster rate than Stubbs. Although it might just seem that way because he moves about ALL THE TIME, in a hairy haze of fur-befuddled activity.

And just to make things worse, we are expecting not-previously-met visitors tomorrow who don’t know and love us for the scummy selves that we are, and who will no doubt be horrified at the state of our animal-detritus-adorned living accommodation. And the sun is shining, like a side-long spotlight on each and every speck of dust and gobbet of hair that floats wraith-like in the allergen-rich atmosphere of our oh-so welcoming home.

Perhaps, with a bit of luck, the sun will still be shining tomorrow, and we can all sit outside to enjoy a cup of hospitable tea in the unseasonably warm weather.