15 April 2010
I *Heart* Dyson
I would like to introduce you to Finnian Hickey. Better known as Finn. Or Finny. Or, to Lexy, Inny. Finn is my fur-baby, the test run, the guinea pig, the company for me when Josh works and travels, and the most hyperactive bouncy dog you have ever met in your entire life. About 4 years ago after a few years of marriage, since I hadn't killed Josh with my housekeeping or cooking, I decided it was time for the dog. Josh agreed, we decided on a beagle and I was starting the search for the perfect pet for our little family. And then. The bombshell. Josh changed his mind and decided that he did NOT want a pet. One of his friends had told him that beagles were noisy and he figured that would be a bad thing in the long run. I'm not sure if there was any other thinking behind it, but that was his final say.
My final say revolved around being crushed for about 2 days and then taking a trip to the local shelter. There was Finn. Available for adoption the following day. I called Josh at work and told him that I found a dog I wanted and it was only part-beagle so the noise factor wouldn't be a problem. I told him the dog was small, tri-color, and about a year old. I told him that the dog went up for adoption the following day and I was going to head back to the shelter and adopt the dog. Final say. We got a dog.
Finn has been an adventure. He hates Golden Retrievers, he's always hungry, he sheds like nobodys business, he loves to run outside and can walk for miles without slowing down. He also likes to sit on the back of my expensive and beautiful living room sofa so he can be in the sun and see out the window at the same time. But most of all, he sheds. I can brush him everyday and still pull fist fulls of fur off of him, no exaggeration. It is seriously annoying. There is fur on EVERYTHING.
But, we love the silly dog and Lexy thinks he's great so it's all forgiven. And, as it turns out, Finn is a purebred American Rat Terrior. We ended up getting a purebred dog from the shelter. Gotta love it.
A few months ago I was given one of the best gifts anyone obsessive about dog fur could get. A Dyson Animal. It's BEAUTIFUL. It's purple and light, it has crazy attachments that I actually use, it sucks up everything and then some off the floor. It is the most amazing house cleaning piece of equipment ever made. I want to marry my Dyson. Or, at the very least, I want to make out with it. It makes vacuuming fun. I know, you think I'm crazy. I am crazy. About my Dyson. It changed my life. Not that there was anything wrong with the 30 pound 10 year old Hoover that I had before. In fact, instead of getting rid of it Josh actually decided to keep it for his personal use in the garage. What you vacuum in a garage I don't really know, but he has his space and I have mine. So, we kept the 50 pound Hoover.
2 days ago, I came home from work to find Josh already home. He was lucky enough to have a half day and got off early to come home to watch the Orioles game. Had a half day, took a half day. Who knows. I told you he LOVES baseball. And there was my Dyson, my gorgeous, life changing Dyson, sitting outside on the screened in porch. The screened in porch that was previously covered with cobwebs, dead bugs, pollen lots and lots of pollen and lots and lots of fur. See, when I groom the pooch, I take him onto the porch. So the birds (and the outdoor carpeting) can have the fur. It was a tad messy from the winter and hadn't been cleaned for the spring yet. Until 2 days ago. When Josh took my Dyson (not the 85 pound Hoover that he kept to use OUTDOORS) and cleaned the porch. I spent the evening taking apart the Dyson to make sure that all the pollen it sucked up, and man did it suck up pollen, was cleaned out of it and that it had clean filters and looked brand new like it did before it was stolen out of my loving hands.
The porch is covered with pollen again.