Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Dirty Dogs and Cream Carpets

T of TW Jan 2016


Muddy Molting Dog Days

By Kent Barker
My poor pooch had a pretty rotten Christmas.  Well, Christmas day anyway.  She was barred from the house we were visiting for the festive lunch.  They’d apparently just had the carpets cleaned at considerable expense and so had banned muddy paws.  However it was noticeable that this injunction didn’t extend to their own dog!  He was allowed full reign of the house while Myrtle had to slum it in the conservatory alongside everyone’s muddy boots and damp coats.
Now, I do concede that dogs, and in particular my dog, are none too good at wiping their paws before bounding across cream-coloured carpets and,  occasionally, onto sofas.  It’s not their fault.  They just don’t see the point of a paw mat.  I mean the other day Myrtle sat down in the middle of a muddy puddle in the park just before we were due to visit friends.  She didn’t need to.  There were other perfectly good and much dryer and cleaner pieces of ground nearby.  But her mind was on the tennis ball.  And when there’s a ball or stick to chase all other thoughts just evaporate from that doggy brain.  Fellow hounds will come up to her to pass the time of day or, perhaps, wish her season’s greetings.  But she just ignores them completely.  But without a ball in her mouth or the prospect of one about to be thrown, she’ll be as sociable as the next dog, and dutifully allow all manner of canines to sniff round her nether regions and even accord them the same courtesy.  
I’ve long thought this method of greeting total strangers a bit … well, strange. Just imagine if it was comme il faut for we humans!  No, it really doesn’t bear thinking about too closely.  A handshake is generally OK – though you do sometimes wonder if the greeter is as assiduous at washing their hands as they should be.  And I’m all for a double-cheek kiss of an attractive member of the opposite sex but even that can get complicated.  Particularly in France.  There the triple kiss has become de rigeur particularly for close friends.  But how close?  And which cheek to start with?  I’m forever getting it wrong and nose-butting the person in front of me.  And should your lips actually caress the cheek in question or remain a millimeter apart?  And how well do you have to know the lady to give her a hug at the same time?  It’s all very difficult. 
There are still some people for whom a hello kiss means on the lips rather than on the cheek. My former mother-in-law was one such.  Now, it’s bad enough having to kiss you mother-in-law at all.   But to set off to peck her on the cheek in a chaste and affirming kind of way, only to find that she’s altered the trajectory of the move and planted a kiss full on your lips, is nothing less than disconcerting and can quite spoil the mood of the occasion.  And what about your father-in-law?  No. I’m not suggesting you go up and kiss him on the lips.  Not at all.  In fact I strongly advise against it.  But should you throw your arms round him and give him a manly hug?  I’d feel it was a nice gesture, but he might be of a generation where physical contact with a member of the same sex is likely to produce a reaction somewhere between panic and repulsion.  And anyway there’s the whole Freudian resentment thing about you sleeping with his daughter, which a clinch with him might only make worse. (Though letting him see you kissing his wife on the lips might not be best advised either!)
But back to carpets.  I’ve long wondered at the habit of some country folk in installing wall-to-wall, light beige or crisp cream carpets in their living area. Mud, particularly at this time of year, is just bound to get into the house and will, invariably, end up on the carpet.  Along with dog hairs. Now, Myrtle is black. She can’t help it.  She was born that way.  My house has brick or wooden floors so I simply don’t notice if she’s molting.  But take her to my partner’s place and within minutes her light-coloured carpet is just covered in dog hair.  And, being Sisal, it’s a nightmare to get off.  We’ve tried everything: vacuuming, brushing, sticky back tape, but none appear to work.  The only vaguely effective method seems to be shuffling over the surface with rubber-soled shoes.  That rolls the hair up into clumps which can more easily be collected.  But it’s a slow and laborious business. 
I deemed it prudent to bring over a large rug to cover the centre of her living-room for Christmas.  It won’t stop Myrtle molting, but it might disguise the results.

ends

No comments:

Post a Comment