Posted on

Some things you find out the hard way.

Back almost a year ago now, in September 2009, my dear friend C sent me an e-mail. I had been planning on saving up for a while and getting a pup from her as my Emergency Backup Dog and Tink’s understudy, and she offered me instead an 18 month old girl whose puppy name was Karisma. She was getting a bit “doggy” (Karisma, not C) and needed a home with fewer very assertive dogs, where she could blossom.

Sure, I said, I will bring Tink down to make sure she is not adamantly opposed, and if that works out OK, I’ll take her home and give her a try. So we went to meet her, and Tink grudgingly said OK. And one thing C mentioned, in passing, was that Karisma had just finished blowing coat. And Karisma came home and became Zille and we all love her now and can’t imagine life without her, and she has blossomed into a fantastic dog who takes care of Tink and me and plays with Beowulf and loves the cats.

But now I know why C waited until AFTER the late summer/early fall coat blow to send her off with me, oh yes. I sweep up enormous piles of hair, and the next day, no, OVERNIGHT, there are more. Tonight, I brushed Zille in between ball tosses, to try and reduce the amount of hair on the floor.
A bit of grey side porch and the concrete and river rocks just in front of it.  Resting on the concrete and river rocks is a diffuse collection of hair; two curry-combs-worth, two rakes-worth, and assorted fluff that just fell off while the curry combing is going on.  This was the product of thirty seconds of shedder grooming.

Let me tell you, gentle reader, if I had seen this BEFORE falling in love with Zillekins, I might have been all “Oh no thank you, I have decided to go with the Peruvian Inca Moonflower for my EBD.” Zille is lucky she’s so adorable.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.