Friday, November 15, 2013

The Princess Formerly Known as Starlet

Now, shed happens daily
When we signed up to be a foster dog family for Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue, we knew what we were in for. Dog fur everywhere. We aren't OK with that, but it does come with the territory. 

On the exciting day we went to pick "Starlet" up, she did not look much like a Golden. She was still lactating from having 9 pups, so she looked a bit "dangly" in that area. She was much scrawnier than our first dog, 90 pound Kodie, but that could be blamed on her recent motherhood as well. And her fur? It didn't look like any Golden we'd ever seen. Short and soft, like a lab just back from the groomer. I ran my fingers through her coat and nothing came off in my hand. I pulled it in disbelief and marveled - This dog does not shed!

About 30 minutes after getting her home, we were foster failures - we decided to keep her. Homeward Bound said as soon as her puppy hormones were settled down, she would look more like a Golden. Yeah right, we thought as we plunked down our "donation" for the little yellow lab we named Molly.

No more puppy hormones? Let the fur fly!

Soon she stopped lactating and started filling out a bit, topping out at about 55 pounds. And then it happened, ever so gradually over the next several months. Her coat came in. And in. And in. She began to grow a thick fox tail, with long strands of the oddest fur. When it's wet it looks as if it's been crimped, like the hair on a cheap blond doll.  It dries extremely fast and repels dirt. She has Teflon fur. Gobs and gobs of Teflon fur that sheds like mad. She is not a lab in any way. She's some kind of skunk killing, fur producing mix of Golden Retriever and Australian Shepherd - smart as a whip, stubborn, protective and healthy. 

Shedding is hard work, but someone has to do it.

And so we vacuum and dust, dust and vacuum. The battle of the fur is ongoing, and most days, even if I'm not winning the war, I put up a real good fight. We don't want to be one of those gross houses you visit in only your worst clothes, lint brush handy in the car for a quick once over after the smelly social call is paid. And that is why we absolutely, definitely, adamantly forbid Molly from getting on the couch. Or the futon. Or even the patio furniture. She knows the house rules. And rules are rules. 


*Bring Your Own Lint Brush

Art imitating life
Life imitating art