Getting Clotheslined

I made passing mention of my newly purchased clothesline way back in 2020, promising a whole post about it that was very long in coming. But now it's here! You finally get to learn how a simple string brought joy into my life.

During the lockdowns of 2020, I spent a lot of time obsessing about dog fur. It was all over every surface of my home and every article of my clothes. When I took to the Internet in an effort to find something that would actually remove the fur and that wasn't a lint roller (single-use sticky plastic sheets? Not eco-friendly at all!), I came across someone's claim that hanging clothes out on a line was a surefire way to get the fur off them. Maybe it had something to do with all the flapping in the breeze, I assumed, but I didn't think about it too much.

That was just the final push I needed to get me to buy a clothesline, something I'd been considering for a while. I'd never been happy about using a hot air dryer—it's damaging to fabrics, uses a lot of gas and electricity, and generates indoor heat which is very undesirable at the height of summer. Hanging all my laundry to dry sounded pretty labor-intensive, but if it would reduce both my environmental footprint and the amount of dog hair on my clothes, it sounded like it would be labor well spent.

I ordered a retractable clothesline (made of plastic, ugh—but that was bound to hold up to the elements better than any natural materials) from Home Depot. It was 50 feet long, long enough to run from my shed to a corner of the house which conveniently already had nails sticking out of it, and once I'd figured out a way to attach the clothesline housing to the sheet-metal shed without ripping holes in the metal (I screwed through the shed wall into small wood blocks to help distribute the load), it was laundry time!

I quickly grew to love the clothesline. Although hanging the clothes took significantly longer than stuffing them into a dryer and pushing Start, I found something pleasantly quaint about the whole practice. And, as mindless chores go, it was oddly soothing to perform. At that time, I was working from home, so I could wash my clothes in the morning, and the minutes I spent doing laundry became welcome breaks from work. Plus, the colorful array of garments outside my window reminded me of a festive string of flags—like fun and functional backyard decor!

Of course, there are definite downsides to air-drying your laundry. If you start too late, it'll still be damp when the sun sets; and leaving it out overnight, while possible, tends to result in it getting dewy and slowing the drying process. Sometimes bugs crawl into the clothes or spiders build webs on them! So you really must start in the morning and have the better part of the day to leave the clothes outside. When you don't have the luxury of working from home, timing of the wash can be a challenge.

A 50-foot clothesline, no matter how tautly you pull it, will sag under the weight of its load, unfortunately low enough that even if the clothes don't quite touch the ground, they're still low enough that your dog can pee on them. Yes, it's happened.

I also find something disconcerting about airing my undies for all the neighbors to see, but I've found a way to work around that. I just I drape my more personal garments over the edge of the laundry basket and set them in a corner of the yard where they're hidden by a fence.

And then there's the matter of towels. Cotton terrycloth doesn't get very fluffy on a clothesline, but if you like drying yourself off with stiff sheets of sandpaper, it probably won't be a problem for you!

I wouldn't recommend using a clothesline as the only means of drying your laundry, because there are just some days when it's too wet or too cold for it to be practical. I still have the gas dryer for those days, but I use it a lot less now. The rest of the time, I happily put on my flapping fashion show. For me, the satisfaction of reduced energy use (and the joy of pretending I'm a pioneer woman!) outweighs the drawbacks.

Oh, and remember the reason I bought the clothesline in the first place? That part about line-drying being a panacea for dog-fur infestations? Well, I've left clothes on the line for days. I've left them out in high winds and torrential rains, and the fur in my sweaters remains undisturbed. All the forces of nature combined are no match for the tenacious grip of a single dog hair. So while hanging my clothes on a line has proved a welcome practice in many ways, in the specific area of dog-fur-management, I'll be hanged if I wasn't fed a line!

Cuddling: A Dog's Guide to Next-Level Loafing

By Special Guest Blogger, Bilbo Baggins

In our last post, we mined the wisdom of expert canine, Bilbo Baggins, as he shared some napping tips he's learned over a 2-year lifetime of lazing about. Today he'll continue in that thread by digging deep into a subset of loafing that is beloved by humans and dogs alike!

The first half of my life was pretty awesome. I chased squirrels and balls and ate dog food and sometimes even human food! My human also left me alone every day, which gave me plenty of time for loafing. Then one day, my human stopped leaving! And, I didn't think it was possible, but my life became even more awesome!

As you can see, she has a thing she calls a "computer" in our house, which she uses for a thing she calls a "job," which she says means she's working. I don’t know how she can call it “working” when it doesn’t involve a bone, but I do know that it requires sitting in front of the computer, which is easy enough. If your human is working, you can help! The best position for working is with your chin on the desk and your booty in the human’s lap. Everyone is comfy this way! Working is so great!

Sometimes when I am loafing in another room, I will hear a dinging sound from the computer that means my human is probably going to have a meeting. I don't know what that is, but I do know it means my human will probably be talking. I love it when my human is talking! The best position to help your human while she is in a meeting is on her lap with your paws on her chest, so that you can easily bite at her face whenever she speaks. If you ever hear that funny ding, you should come running. You don't want to be late for your meeting!

 
Other ways you can ensure you don't get excluded from the workplace – and still get your loafing done at the same time – are: 

1. Surreptitiously interpose yourself between your human and her chair.

 

2.  Take up the entirety of her chair. At first, you might feel a bit guilty about this, because you are a dog and your human is glaring at you, but I have it on good authority that working is important for humans, and working means sitting on a chair, so you are definitely being helpful!
 

3.  Drape yourself over your human while she is on her chair. This is apparently the most effective of working postures. My human is always telling me to get off when I do this, which must mean that we have completed all the work! What a team!

 

One of the best ways to ensure lots of joint loafing time with your human is to have an out-of-control furry coat like I do. This means that once a month, she will have to sit down on the floor and groom you. The clippers will feel a little weird on your ear hair, but it’s worth it, because it means over an hour of non-stop cuddling and hand-feeding! This is a relaxing and cozy time for everyone involved!
 
By far the best way, however, to spend quality time loafing with your human is to do it when there are no distractions: no meetings, no tickly clippers, just you and your bestest favoritest friend! This is easy: just find your human when she is lying down, and position yourself on top of her.

The chest and back are classic options, but if you haven’t learned to cuddle with human legs, you’re missing out! When the legs are positioned properly, you can be fully surrounded on all sides by a secure, protective friend. Legs are way better than a dog bed, which is perfectly sized to your body and has no pokey bones and was designed exclusively for you to sleep in, and I’ll tell you why: because the legs are made out of your beloved human! How could any nest be more perfect!?

 
And that, my friends, is the pinnacle of dog comfort and lying-down mastery. I have no more to say...except a small reminder to any humans who happen to be reading this. It is inspired by a wise saying I would have seen once on a pillow, if I could only read:

“If you want the best seat in the house, you can’t have it, because it’s you!”

A Lazy Dog's Guide to Loafing

By Special Guest Blogger, Bilbo Baggins!

Life is hard when you're a domestic dog—so much human food to beg for, so many balls to chase, so many suspicious characters to bark at! Sometimes it's enough to make you just want to lie down and nap! But how?

Don't worry, our special guest blogger and expert on being a dog, Bilbo Baggins, has your hindquarters! With his vast experience in strategic lounging, he will guide you through a compendium of possible poses and get you well on your way to Doggy Dreamland!

A question I get from a lot of dogs is, “When I get the urge to loaf around, where should I do it?” 

The answer is easy: Any time your human puts something on the floor, that is an invitation for you to sit down on it. Outfits she has laid out for the next day and her yoga mat are the best of the best, but don’t overlook the less cushy objects either. Even the smallest shopping bag is a gift from your human and must be sat upon! 

Empty cardboard boxes don’t sound very comfortable, but what the human wants, the human gets! She will always take a photo of you when you sit in a box, so that’s how you know you’ve been a good boy!

If you haven’t tried sitting in the suitcase, you really must! This opportunity only comes around once in a while (usually when the human is planning to abandon you!), so act quickly when you see it! Your goal is to get your fur all over the human’s possessions so she doesn’t forget about you while she’s gone.

If the object you are lying on is too hard and flat for your liking, you might want to employ a trick I learned from my ancestors. Simply poke and pull at it with your paws and turn around a couple of times until it is no longer flat. You will have a bed of perfectly arranged lumps in no time! Definite improvement!

There’s one thing you shouldn't ever bother lying down on, though: your dog bed. Basically, if it’s got the word “dog” in it, you don’t want it! Freshly folded laundry is a better choice every time!

For some reason, my human doesn’t like me to sit on the couch (she says it has something to do with my tendency to puke on it! As if!) If your human is the same way and does mean things like put metal grates on the couch so you can’t sit on it even if she’s not looking and there’s absolutely zero chance that you’re going to barf up that combination of grass and dust bunnies you ate earlier, you can at least let her know how you feel by sleeping mournfully as close to the couch as you can possibly get. Much sad!

 

Pro Tip: One of my favorite places to get some shuteye is behind the toilet. My human thinks that’s because it’s a nice cool spot in the dog days of summer, but really I’m just trying to make her feel sorry for not letting me on the couch. Someday she’ll catch on!

 

In case you, too, are trying to guilt your human into sharing her couch with you, and the toilet trick just isn’t reaching her, try pressing your face into the leg of a chair. This sends a sure message of pitiful imprisonment. It’s a metaphor any human should understand!...except mine. I’ll keep working on her.

My friends, I am a dog of few words (in fact, I have said zero in my entire life!), but when it comes to loafing, I've barely gotten started! My human says she knows a thing or two about blogging, and that I'd better split this into two posts. So just steady... steady... 

And come! (back tomorrow, when I'll have another helpful guide to my favorite kind of loafing of all!)

Dog Mom Level: 500?

You might recall that last year, I rigged up a stroller to be a wheeled dog carrier and trained my little pupster to enjoy riding around in it. That was a great solution for conveying him around a public transit system, but since I haven't ridden Metro since March and don't plan on doing so in the foreseeable future, the stroller hasn't really seen much use. Well, he still loves to jump up and sit in it for no reason, though, so I guess that's an accomplishment I'll never undo!

This year, I decided to up my dog transport game and find a way to bring him with me when I ride my bike. My first idea was a trailer, like some parents use to carry their human children. I actually salvaged an abandoned bike trailer from the curb, but it was missing so many parts that I never got around to converting it for use with a dog. And that's just as well, because my second idea was a better one—I'd carry my dog in a backpack!

There are companies that make special backpacks specifically designed for dog transport. For a few months, I had one of them on my Amazon wishlist. But I could just not see my way to spending 50+ on something that might not even work. So I decided to test out the concept with a backpack I already had.

In a months-long process involving lots of treats and tennis-ball-chasing sessions, I trained Bilbo to love sitting on top of the backpack, then tolerate being inside the backpack, then tolerate being carried in the backpack, then carried on a bike in the backpack. 

 

Training in progress!

It was a big accomplishment this summer when I was able to bike with him all the way to campus where I work, because that meant I'd henceforth be able to bring my dog to the office whenever I wanted! You know, whenever the office reopened, that is.

Well, the office reopened, and today was my first day back. Naturally, I took my dog, which means we, together, have survived a full day at the office and a round-trip bike ride using a dog backpack! I have been so successful with my trial backpack, that I decided it's not necessary to invest in a special dog backpack from Amazon. The regular-old secondhand backpack (with a few slight modifications to make it easier to get a dog into it and harder for a dog to fall out of it!) is quite sufficient.

In spite of it being a success in almost every way, I can't help but feel that my dog backpack is a little anticlimactic after creating the dog stroller (which was a much more impressive feat of craftsmanship at very least), so I decided to construct a comparison chart to lay the matter to rest, and maybe help other DIYers out there decide where to invest their energies when they feel the need for more dog mobility!

	Dog Stroller	Dog Backpack
Allows you to bike with your dog	❌	✔️
Allows you to take your dog on DC Metro	✔️	❌
Takes up very little space	❌	✔️
Protects your shoulders from carrying a squirming 20-pound burden on your back	✔️	❌
Elicits reactions like "Aww," and "Hahaha" and "I love your dog!" from random passersby	❌	✔️
Unequivocally qualifies you as a "Dog Mom"	✔️	❌
Costs nothing in supplies (assuming you already have a backpack and a stroller and some basic sewing notions)	❌	✔️
Is an impressive feat of craftsmanship	✔️	❌
Allows you to feel like a dog trainer extraordinaire	✔️	✔️

 

Well, folks, looks like it's a tossup! The relative merits of the different methods of canine conveyance are highly situational, but one thing is clear: You're more of a "dog mom" when you're pushing your dog around in a stroller than when you are carrying him in a backpack! So if having that status is important for you, then by all means go for Dog Mom Level 1000 and make yourself a stroller. But if you're like me, and your present lifestyle is more suited to biking everywhere you go, then you might be happier with a backpack.

Bilbo and I clearly leveled down, but we're upwardly mobile and ready to work like dogs at the office! That is, once I can get him to stop barking his head off at every person who comes down the hallway. Next training project: Social Skills!

Balder is Better

As a certified mammal, I find myself drawn to other creatures with lots of hair. The cuter and puffier, the better! Or so I thought, until I found myself the beleaguered mother of an extremely furry cocker-spaniel-hybrid (I don't know his pedigree, but while he has the general shape and temperament of a cocker spaniel, his hair is much wilder and more profuse than is generally shown in most portrayals of the breed).

When I became his sole caretaker last March, I was brushing him at least once a week (and trying to do it every day), cutting huge mats out of his fur every time. It's a wonder he had any fur left with all the mat removal I was doing, but somehow he did. Vast quantities of fur! Floppy, hairy ears that came dripping out of his water bowl every time he took a drink! Huge hairy feet that soaked up all the mud every time he went outside! And let's not forget how bad it got when he tried to play in the snow!

Bilbo was an outdoorsy dog in an indoorsy dog's body.

If the fur on his body and legs was a challenge, the fur on his head was a veritable disaster! His breed is susceptible to cherry eye, which is when the third eyelid becomes swollen and pops out, resulting in oozing and weeping. Bilbo's eyes oozed and wept continually onto his face, where the mess would congeal and adhere to all the long hairs in the vicinity. Another thing about his breed is long floppy ears. Supposedly they were bred that way so that when digging in the ground after burrowing game for their humans, the ears would keep dirt out of the dog's face. But combined with the ridiculously long hair, what the ears do instead is provide a sheltered breeding ground for earwax and bacteria. So gross. Cocker spaniels are also blessed with a "soft mouth," which in hunting terms means they have loose floppy lips that are less likely to damage the prey they catch. But in real-life terms, what it means is that they allow water and spit and food particles to leak out the sides of the dog's mouth...and thence, onto the aforementioned long hair.

Whoever invented cocker spaniels was surely a sadist. Messed-up eyes, ears, and mouth aside, what sort of hunting dog needs wooly legs that collect every twig, leaf, and bramble for miles around? Yet that's exactly what they gave them. Combine that genetic cesspit with the coat of a poodle (which is what some have surmised comprises the rest of Bilbo's ancestry), and you get even more hair that's even more curly! His forehead hair was so long that it covered his eyes, which surely contributed to his frequent collisions with vertical surfaces. Total breeding fail. 

I experimented with headbands to keep his hair out of  his eyes.
Not effective.

I made some token efforts to keep his coat under control. I bought an electric set of clippers (which he hated and which couldn't manage to cut through his fur without getting jammed) and finally settled for trimming his legs and face in clumpy patches with a pair of scissors whenever I could get him to sit still for 5 minutes. It was better than nothing, but truly not much good at all.

This entire hairy situation came to a head when Bilbo got fleas in August. Three flea baths, diligent grooming with a flea comb, and two treatments with Frontline did nothing to rid him of the suckers, and I was just about to tear out my own hair!

In late October, I finally called in the big guns: a professional groomer. I found her on Rover, she came to my house, and I let her do her magic. She shaved Bilbo down to the skin and gave him yet another flea bath, and when he came out the other side, he looked...surprisingly cute!

I admit I kind of miss his gargantuan hobbit feet, but his clean-shaven mien left a lot fewer places for boogers to attach to. And he's much more endearing now that you can actually see his facial expressions!

I instantly became a dog-grooming convert...but a cheap one. Professional grooming comes in at around $100 a pop. I won't even spend that much money to get my own hair cut; I'm definitely not going to spend it on a dog! So I took note of what brand of clippers the groomer used (Andis) and promptly bought my own. They paid for themselves after 2 DIY grooming sessions. Admittedly, my technique will never rival that of a professional groomer, but I'll settle for somewhat tidy-looking hair with no detritus in it.

After his most recent haircut by his mom

Everyone who sees Bilbo nowadays marvels at how much cuter he is with short fur. He's even more likable now that he's a bit more hygienic. All this time, I'd been thinking long-haired dogs were the best dogs, but Bilbo was really much improved by the loss of his locks. It's a good thing I didn't name him Samson!

Dog Mom Level: 1000

You want to know something ironic about pet ownership? "Cat people" are typecast as antisocial loners who are perfectly content to stay at home all weekend life with a book, while "dog people" are characterized as active, energetic, friendly sorts who are always looking for a good time with good friends. Yet cat owners, with their low-maintenance pets who only require a feed-dispenser and weekly litterbox cleaning, are much better equipped to actually go out and be active and energetic with their good friends; while dog owners, who are (often literally) tethered to their pets and their rigid feeding and pottying schedules, can barely leave the house!

It is really hard to be spontaneous and social when you always have to worry about whether your dog is too lonely at home without you, or about to relieve his bladder all over your bed. These problems are mitigated when you can bring your dog with you everywhere you go, but that is a lot easier said than done.

Even assuming you are lucky enough to know of a gathering place or two where dogs are welcome (it's usually a bar with a patio, and they sometimes even host genuine "yappy hours!"), there's still the matter of transporting your pooch.

Sure, you can drive your pup everywhere in style (or in my case, in a worn-out old utility vehicle), but just try parking a pickup truck in Washington, DC. Just try parking anything in Washington, DC. Really, I dare you! Also, try driving your pickup truck out of DC after you've had a yappy hour drink or three (rhetorically only; I don't dare you on this one!).

There has to be a better way, and that way is public transportation. I'm a huge fan of public transportation (my love for the Metro was one of the things that kept me from ever returning to Ohio), but it has one problem: No pets allowed.

At least, that's what I thought, until I decided to actually check what the pet policy on Metro is. As it turns out, you can bring your pet... as long as it is  "carried aboard in a secure container from which it cannot escape." Well, now, that's a dog of a different color!

Upon learning that tidbit, I spent many hours trying to concoct ways to bring my dog on Metro so I could take him to places in DC without my car. I have been informed that people routinely bring their dogs on the New York Subway in bags from which their heads poke out, but I've never seen such a sight on the DC Metro, so I decided a full enclosure was a safer bet.

Now, my Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit of a dog, but he is by no means a featherweight, so I wanted a carrier that I could wheel around, rather than have to lug in my hand. I contemplated trying to attach a dog crate to a wheeled walker; I considered modifying a large wheeled suitcase to accommodate a canine; but ultimately, I decided what Bilbo needed for both his and my comfort was a stroller. They're already designed for transporting a living being; it should be a cinch to convert one for a dog instead of a baby!

I bided my time, waiting for a stroller at a good price. I actually ordered a ready-made dog stroller on eBay for 14 dollars, but it was too good to be true. It never arrived, the seller closed their account, and I received a refund. But before too much time had passed, a neighbor put a perfectly good Graco out on the curb, and I was in business!

I won't bore you with the details of how I actually made the stroller dog-ready, but it was a process that spanned a few months. In short, I affixed the canopy with a mesh screen that attaches under the seat and to the sides with Velcro. I extended the seat back so it reclines to a full horizontal, to make more room for a dog to lie down comfortably. I also removed the footrest, though I can no longer remember why I felt that was necessary.

After it was done, several more weeks passed, during which I trained Bilbo to hop into it, sit in it patiently without trying to escape, and eventually travel around in it while it was moving. I'm pretty proud of the effort I put into this part; it was so successful that now he jumps into his stroller whenever he gets the opportunity, just because he seems to enjoy being in there!

Our first real-world trial of the stroller happened last Friday. I wasn't really prepared (I had wanted to do a few more test runs around the block and experience some encounters with real people), but one of my Meetup groups was holding a dog happy hour, and it suddenly occurred to me that this is probably the last month of the year that I'll be able to tolerate a happy hour outdoors!

So I rushed home after work, and set out for Metro with my dog and stroller firmly in hand. I let him walk to the station to burn off as much steam as possible, but then I bundled him into his stroller and boarded the train.

The trip passed entirely without incident! Bilbo wasn't as enthusiastic about the arrangement as I was, but I plied him with lots of treats and was able to pet him through the loosely attached mesh, so he didn't try any heroic escapes. I had been girding myself for a confrontation with Metro staff, but I guess women with strollers aren't that odd of a sight on transit. No one said anything, except for one floor cleaner, who, after a second take, told me, "Oh, I thought that was a baby." And then he amended himself: "I guess it is your baby."

So if that's not evidence that I've ascended to a new height of dog-mom-hood, I don't know what is!

The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins

Did you know that there actually is a song out there called "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins?" There is, and it is sung by none other than Star Trek's Mr. Spock, so if you're a sci-fi/fantasy geek, please rejoice and enjoy!

However, if you're not into song and dance, then you may prefer to just hear a less musical tale, the one about the Bilbo Baggins I call my own.

It's quite a saga in itself, beginning sometime early last spring, when my boyfriend's friend decided to get divorced. Naturally, when you're going through an acrimonious divorce, the first thing you want to do is get the kids on your side, so the wife in this story took the only sensible course of action: she went to Korea and bought them a 5-month-old cocker spaniel puppy.

She discovered quite quickly that caring for a puppy was beyond her skillset, so the work was outsourced to the husband (as were most of the responsibilities in this marriage—you begin to see why it was ending!). But of course, the husband was overwhelmed with other tasks — tasks like getting divorced — so he began searching for a new home for his puppy.

The first (and let's face it, probably only) person he asked was Mr. Dog Person himself: my boyfriend. At this time (late July), he and I were knee deep in raising a puppy of our own (Kodiak was only 5 months old himself), and I was not enjoying it. However, the worst (peeing every 30 minutes!) seemed to be over, and I was actually starting to feel pretty confident in my puppy-rearing abilities. So I told my boyfriend, who relayed to his friend, that if he absolutely could not find anyone else to take the puppy, we would do it.

And so we did it. 

 

Here's one of my first and favorite pictures of him.

For some unfathomable reason, the wife had chosen to name this beigish-whitish creature "Cocoa" (or maybe Coco or Koko, which were equally terrible names since he was a male), so the first thing we did upon acquiring our new charge was to saddle him with a new name.

There is no particular reason we chose "Bilbo Baggins"—Al simply threw out a couple of suggestions that I didn't like, and this happened to be one that I did. But over time, he grew to suit his name. As his hair grew out, his paws became shaggy and enormous-looking—just like hobbit feet are supposed to. 

The first few weeks of owning him were rough. Although he was supposed to be 5 months old according to his papers, he acted much younger than his brother Kodiak. We suspect that his vital stats had been fudged in order to clear him for export to the United States. He was a hyperactive whippersnapper with too much pep in his step for my taste, and he wasn't even remotely house-trained. I was all in favor of passing him on to yet another family, but my boyfriend would only give him away if it were to a person he already knew and trusted. That left us precious few options, and everyone who claimed to want him got cold feet soon after. As the months passed, it seemed unfair to uproot him for the third time in his short life, so I accepted him as a permanent part of mine.

Although I still wasn't terribly fond of the little fellow, when my boyfriend and I went through our own divorce of sorts, I offered to take full custody of Bilbo. At the minimum, I think I disliked him less out of the two of us.

But he grew on me slowly. Having a dog around was something of a consolation prize when I suddenly had to face up to being single after almost 7 years of near-continuous couple-hood. And although I'm still not keen on Bilbo's insatiable desire for constant activity, I do enjoy being the recipient of his also nearly insatiable desire for companionship.

 

What's sitting still?

Although he's a lot of work, he's also my buddy, and I'm sure we'll have many stories to come!

Musings of a Dog Mom

I've come a long way since I reluctantly made room in my life and home for someone else's cute but annoying canine companion.

Since then, I've cared for one dog through his final days, raised another dog from puppyhood, and dog-sat so many friends' furry friends that I've lost count. I've written about them so much that I gave them a dedicated tag in my blog, held a dog-themed housewarming party, and finally admitted that I like my dogs more than I dislike them. Although the only pet I ever really wanted was a cat, it has become clear over the years that I'm proud of my role as accidental "dog mom."

Dog-mom-hood is not for the faint of heart. Dog-mom-hood means getting way too comfortable with every bodily function you could ever imagine, and accustoming yourself to the unflinching cleanup of the results of every one of those bodily functions, when they inevitably get performed in an inappropriate place such as your lap or pillow.

Dog-mom-hood means adopting a vocabulary that sometimes consists of nothing more than "Sit," "Stay calm," "Good boy," "Look at me," "Stay calm," "No jumping," "Good boy," over and over again until your world has narrowed to just you and the dog-child you are desperately trying to coax some manners into. When you leave home with your dog-child, you can expect your only conversation with other humans to consist of apologetic one-liners such as "I'm trying to teach him to meet other dogs without freaking out!"

Dog-mom-hood is waking up at the crack of dawn to the sound of your dog chewing on a piece of furniture, and dragging yourself out of bed so you can take him to the park to play fetch before work starts, and falling asleep before 10 every night because you're so exhausted from your weirdly early morning (dog-mom-hood is very hard on those of us who need 9 uninterrupted hours of sleep every night!).

Being a dog mom is a lot of work, and sometimes the only reward is a faceful of stanky dog tongue that you'd probably be happier without! But sometimes, your consolation prize is a holiday dedicated just to you.

Today, apparently, is both Day of the Dog at Congressional Cemetery, and National Dog Mom's Day, and I'm celebrating by taking my dog on a long walk through the city and having a picnic with other dog-loving women, because there's no better way to shun traditional motherhood than by making a huge deal out of your lesser – but much cuter and furrier – responsibilities. Dog moms unite!

Being a dog mom is quite a task and quite an achievement, but you haven't truly become a dog mom until you've become a single dog mom—when all the work is doubled. Such an honor was bestowed upon me back in early March, when my boyfriend of nearly six years ended our relationship, but told me magnanimously, "You can keep a dog."

I had two dogs to choose from, one of which was the aforementioned puppy we raised together, and one of which was Bilbo Baggins, who has never before been mentioned in this blog! We acquired Bilbo thirdhand back in August when he was around 5 months old, (and one of these days, I'll tell you more about that story and the dog himself, because he's the one I kept!).

Since my breakup, with no one else to lavish my love upon (cue the sad music!), I've devoted myself whole-heartedly to the care and maintenance of my sole companion. I have clocked countless hours training him, exercising him, policing his behavior, letting him interrupt my yoga sessions, walking him aimlessly around the neighborhood just to feel less like a homebound loser, and of course grooming him. Oh, the grooming! I could groom him all day and all night, and he'd still look scruffy. It's totally pointless, but I do it anyway, because he is my sole companion! I perform all these many duties without complaint (in fact, with some degree of enjoyment), and feel guilty when I can't be performing them—for example, when I need to be out doing normal single-woman activities, such as finding Bilbo a new suitable dog dad.

Being a dog mom makes dating so much harder! But it looks like there is hope for me. As I was researching National Dog Mom's Day, I found out that our glorious festival of self-congratulation was actually invented by Dig, "the dog person's dating app." I'd never heard of it before, but it sounds just about right for a newly single dog mom. Whenever I'm ready to dip my claws into the heretofore uncharted waters of dating by app, guess which one I'll download first!

The Hairy Eyeball

Lately, I've been having this problem with scratchiness in my eye. It's not dryness. It's not itchiness. It feels like something is stuck in it, but no matter what I do, I can't get it out! Rubbing it accomplishes nothing (I know I'm not supposed to do that anyway). Blinking just makes it worse. Dousing it with eyedrops doesn't help. I'm simply forced to deal with it, blinking uncomfortably and tossing my head around like I can maybe shake the irritant loose, for hours or days until it finally, miraculously, goes away.

I thought this was just another one of those weird malfunctions of my body, like eczema, an extreme reaction to an imagined slight (or maybe my mascara, though it never seemed to coincide with the relatively infrequent times I wore makeup). I put up with the phenomenon for months, getting annoyed every time it recurred, but figuring it was just the latest in a lifelong string of weird but minor health problems that can't be treated.

Then one day, during a particularly irritating bout of scratchy eye, I went in the bathroom and got up close and personal with my eyeball, pulling back the lids and scrutinizing the sclera for any signs of injury. I didn't see anything...until...there! The tiniest...something...that didn't look like it was part of my eye. It vanished when I blinked, and then it appeared again. I poked it with my finger, brushed sideways, pulled outward, and I had it!

It unraveled from my eye like a skein of thread. It was kinky and fine as silk, almost invisible but most definitely not imagined.

It was a dog hair. One of those tiny, twisty undercoat hairs that adhere to every soft surface in our house and refuse to come off again. This time, the surface it adhered to was my eyeball.

So you know what I'm talking about, here's an example hair,
which, fortunately, has never been stuck in my eye.

One more medical mystery, solved!

Since that moment, I've had two more cases of scratchy eye that have been successfully cured by close examination and subsequent removal of a dog hair.

If I had one of those automatic fur removers that hasn't been invented yet, it would sure save me a lot of literal tears. But at least I'm glad to know that there's a cause and a solution to one of the most infuriating maladies to affect me in recent history. And fellow dog owners, if you ever experience a scratchy eye for no apparent reason, perhaps you should look not to yourself for the cause, but to your pet!

Dogs are the mother of invention

I used to say I get my best ideas while walking to the bathroom (this is at work, where the nearest bathroom takes the better part of a minute to reach). Nowadays, I seem to get my best ideas while taking my dog to the bathroom (that is, the dog bathroom, a.k.a the great outdoors). There isn't a walk that goes by where I'm not suddenly pointing my finger to the heavens and exclaiming, "Wouldn't it be great if there was..." usually followed by some fantastical invention that would make dog ownership easier.

Here are some tools for dog owners that, if someone just had the technology and I just had the money, would make my dogs more like my best friends and less like my worst frenemies.

The automatic fur remover

This is the first dog-related invention I ever dreamed up. Between covering up my couches to keep the dog fur off in case of guests, to buying coats to match those of my dogs, to being unable to fall asleep at night thanks to the wisps of dog fur dangling off the blanket into my face, to washing and folding my clothes inside out to prevent them from picking up fur during the laundering process, dog fur is a constant source of struggle in my life. While I beg my boyfriend to brush his dogs at least once a week, he never actually does, so it would sure be nice if we had something that would do it for us...or at least, remove the shed hair from everything it lands on. We have an automatic dog-fur remover for the floor (it's our robotic vacuum cleaner!), but wouldn't it be great if there was something I could just set on top of the bed and let do its thing? Maybe a little box that I could just drop a shirt into and have all the dog hairs meticulously sucked off?

The automatic leash detangler

The catch-22 of dog walking is, if you don't put your dog on a leash, he'll run away, but if you do put your dog on a leash, he'll get it tangled. Around everything, but most annoyingly, under his legs approximately every five steps, which will cause him to slow down and attempt to walk sideways, or just plain fall over. Wouldn't it be great if there was just some kind of tool that would keep the leash out from under the dog's legs at all times?

The dog force field

Better yet, wouldn't it be great if there was some kind of force field you could turn on to keep your dog in your vicinity, so you didn't need a leash at all? Not only would this solve the leash-around-the-legs issue, but it would also prevent other mishaps such as the dreaded walking the leash around the table in a spiral until dog is trapped one inch from the table leg but can't figure out how to unwind again,  and the infamous two dogs meeting each other and walking under and around each other's leashes, forcing the owners to do a little dance and/or pseudo-handshake to get them separated again. My boyfriend tells me there is some sort of shock collar you can get to keep your dog nearby, but I think a force field sounds much more humane and way cooler.

A typical dining-out leash situation

The indoor dog toilet

One of the grossest things about having dogs is having to pick up their poop with your hands. Even cat owners get a scoop to go with their poop, so why do dog owners have to go around fondling it like coprophiliacs? In fact, why do pet owners have to clean up poop at all? I can't believe, after so many millennia of living hand-in-paw with companion animals, and so many centuries of indoor plumbing, we still haven't invented a surface that would appeal to a dog yet still enable us to flush its waste away with the flick of a finger. This would undoubtedly be the greatest dog invention of all...but if someone made it a reality and I never had to walk my dog again, how would I get any more of these marvelous ideas?

Help, I'm dating a dog person

Although in my entire adult life I've never owned a cat of my own, I've always considered myself more of a cat person than a dog person...or rather, more of a cat.

However, as they say, opposites attract, so somehow I found myself sharing my home and life with an undeniable dog person. Not only is he a dog person, but he is bound and determined to make me into one, too. He regularly foments chaos in my calm and peaceful existence by bringing home new, increasingly disruptive dogs every couple of years.

The newest one is, fortunately, not a lazy, grumpy, foot-piddling cat-dog, nor a yapping, anxiety-ridden bundle of health problems. It's something much worse: a puppy.

Cuteness not withstanding, there are many irritating things about having a puppy, but anyone who's had a puppy probably already knows what they are. What you might not know is that the most irritating thing about having a puppy has nothing to do with dogs at all—it's dog people!

People in general love dogs (even I, a certifiable antisocialite, love dogs, in a commitment-phobic kind of way), but dog people not only love dogs; they act like dogs! And when you're out and about with a cute puppy, you're bound to attract at least a few dog people—that is to say, people with no sense of boundaries.

Here's a typical exchange:

Cat person: [Walking dog, enjoying the weather, generally minding her own business]

Squealing girl: Can I pet your puppy!!!1!!???

Cat person: [only hissing mentally] Of course!

Girl pets puppy. Puppy loves it. Other dog people descend like wolves, eager to get in on the action. Puppy is ecstatic. Cat person is hovering awkwardly nearby, trying to suppress the instinct to flee.

This is a best-case scenario. In a worst-case scenario, the dog person will want to do the unthinkable: engage in conversation.

The conversation is always the same: What's your dog's name? How old is he? What's his breed? After running out of standard questions, the dog person will then begin to rhapsodize on how cute the puppy is, how he is making her day, and/or all the ways the puppy reminds her of her own dog.

This may sound like one-way nattering, but when two dog people get together, just like dogs, they both feel the need to get in each other's faces and yap. A simple encounter can easily turn into an endless exchange about the characteristics of the dog in question, the characteristics of every participant's every pet since the time of their infancy, and the defining characteristics of every breed known to man.

It can really get annoying. And I know, because my boyfriend is a dog person. I've watched him get mired in conversations with other dog people that lasted so long, I had to walk away. There's only so much smiling and nodding a cat person can force out before she has to return to solitary pastimes. Being a cat person in a dog person's family is not unlike being a cat in a bathtub: sometimes you just want to run away screaming.

Yet, as a responsible pet owner, you know you have a duty to to treat your dog with loving kindness, and meet its needs. Even when those needs involve...(dum dum dummm)...going out in public!

Every day, the puppy must be taken on a seemingly infinite number of walks. Of course, I could just hustle him out for a quick potty break and dart back inside like a ghost, as would be my preference...but the less you exercise the puppy outdoors, the more he wants to run around the house or office, barking, digging at the carpet, and chewing up the couch.

So instead, it's long tedious walks around campus—walks which inevitably lead to hordes of dog people wanting to meet the puppy. 

I thought this ordeal was inevitable, and as a cat person, I was uncertain if I could survive it on my own. But in only one short solo excursion with the puppy, I learned a trick for tolerating walks when feeling antisocial (which, if you're a cat person, is all the time). It even comes in the form of a game, which should make even the most hardcore dog people happy. I call it "Dodge the Humans!"

The rules are simple:

1. When out and about with your dog, try to only walk where other people are not walking. This may mean eschewing paved pathways, and suddenly changing directions when you see a crowd.
2. Be especially wary of children and groups of female humans. These are the ones most likely to attempt to approach you.
3. When forced to cross paths with a human of any sort, don't make eye contact! I find it helps to stare intently at the dog while continuously uttering a stream of commands and praise. That way you can at least pass for a fellow dog person, and not some humanoid robot that hates all living things.

By following these rules assiduously, I was able to survive an entire walk around the mall (and then around a couple of extra buildings to avoid a school group) without once having to tell anyone my dog's age! We even made it almost all the way back inside when I started to feel sorry for the puppy, who seemed sad about not getting all the pats and attention he is used to whenever he goes out....So I let him run up to someone entering the building, slip through the door, and nearly escape out the other side. This resulted in a flurry of apologies, an even more awkward interaction than any silly dog-talk chat could be.

From now on, I think I'll stick with what a cat person does best. I'll continue Dodging the Humans and only participate in puppy play when it suits my mood. I'll leave the socializing, the endless activity, and all the yapping to my boyfriend. After all, if there's one good thing about being a cat person stuck in a dog person's family, it's that you have a dog person to do all that.