Love Me, Love My Dog
We're not having a Super Bowl party. For one: the Steelers aren't playing, so who really cares? We'll watch the game and pray the Patriots don't catch up to my team's count of Six Lombardis, but it doesn't rise to the level of party-worthy. But, for two, I always have this conundrum when it comes to entertaining: do people really want to come to my house? There's a few reasons for that which are deep seeded and go back to being a shy only child. Like the joke: why would I want to belong to a club that would have me as a member? But it's primarily because not every one - even people I know and like and seem to like me - want to spend time in a house covered in dog hair.
Something recently made me ponder all of this - oddly, I don't even remember what it was that made me think back to a remark my mother-in-law made when she visited this past summer. Old age has made her uncompromisingly blunt (which means she'd fit in well in Pittsburgh), and one day she waxed reminiscent about the days when we all lived close to one another, with us in our Round Rock home with nearly two acres and eight dogs. At some point the duty of hosting family events - Thanksgiving, Christmas and the Memorial Day/Birthday party bash (a disproportionate number of family members had birthdays in May to early June) became more than she wanted to take on, and we were the natural inheritors - we had a large, open floor plan, and a pool. But we also had a LOT of dogs, and they were always under foot because - with that many of them, where else would you expect them to go? This was their home after all. They weren't badly behaved really - my sparse three are more a handful now actually because for one, they're younger, and they're collies and want to do what collies do - herd things. Anyway, her comment this past summer was how my house always smelled so badly of dog.
We knew she felt that way actually - when she had come to visit before when we still lived in our first little house, we fretted over making sure the house was as de-dogified (no, it's not a real word, but it should be) as possible. I had discovered Wallflowers from Bath and Body Works somewhat by accident after moving here - my daughter had given me hers from her dorm, stating it was too overwhelmingly for the small space. Perfect however, for a house with dogs! So, I buy those things in bulk and always have at least two plugged in somewhere. I made sure the one in the downstairs living room was new when we headed off to the airport to pick her up. Nonetheless, there was this moment of anticipation when she first walked in the house. She looked around briefly and said, "Your house smells good!" My husband and I shared a glance of happy triumph.
She wasn't wrong - I mean about our old house always smelling like a dog. How could it not? We bought it from a vet, so it was very dog friendly with the entire first floor Saltillo tile until you reached the bedroom. But they slept on the bed and the couch, and we had dog beds and blankets everywhere, and those caught the odor I'm sure. I've mentioned before that I once made the statement that I cleaned twice as hard as most people to keep my house half as clean.
As dog owners you never notice that stuff - or you don't notice it as much as others do anyway. Sometimes - like when I would come back after a business trip - it would hit me. So, while I got used to it, I knew how it looked to the outside world. If you loved my dogs, you were likely okay with it, but most people were at most neutral towards them. So, when we'd entertain, the extreme effort to clean in advance added a lot of extra work to the preparations. And who knows if it ever truly works. There's always some dog hair somewhere.
Somewhere along the way I became more self-conscious about it. Maybe enough things got said along the way. Maybe it's the just the reality of living with a toddler and a house full of toys - both human and canine - added to a demanding job that doesn't allow for a lot of party planning anyway, but every time I think of pulling together a gathering, I lose my nerve. The one time I did it went fine, though - so maybe I'm being over sensitive.
I guess the bottom line is this: if you're friends with a dog person, then the dog sort of becomes part of the deal. And all of the things that come with it: some stray hair, a little damp dog smell on a rainy day. Playing second fiddle to the dog's schedule sometimes. It's just all part of the gig. If you like me, then being a dog lover is part of my nature, so you probably can at least tolerate my four legged family members.
So maybe I should relent and plan a party, but have lint rollers as part of the party favors...but for today, the dogs and I will be watching the Big Game curled up on the couch by ourselves.
Something recently made me ponder all of this - oddly, I don't even remember what it was that made me think back to a remark my mother-in-law made when she visited this past summer. Old age has made her uncompromisingly blunt (which means she'd fit in well in Pittsburgh), and one day she waxed reminiscent about the days when we all lived close to one another, with us in our Round Rock home with nearly two acres and eight dogs. At some point the duty of hosting family events - Thanksgiving, Christmas and the Memorial Day/Birthday party bash (a disproportionate number of family members had birthdays in May to early June) became more than she wanted to take on, and we were the natural inheritors - we had a large, open floor plan, and a pool. But we also had a LOT of dogs, and they were always under foot because - with that many of them, where else would you expect them to go? This was their home after all. They weren't badly behaved really - my sparse three are more a handful now actually because for one, they're younger, and they're collies and want to do what collies do - herd things. Anyway, her comment this past summer was how my house always smelled so badly of dog.
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The dogs get to go where they're comfy |
We knew she felt that way actually - when she had come to visit before when we still lived in our first little house, we fretted over making sure the house was as de-dogified (no, it's not a real word, but it should be) as possible. I had discovered Wallflowers from Bath and Body Works somewhat by accident after moving here - my daughter had given me hers from her dorm, stating it was too overwhelmingly for the small space. Perfect however, for a house with dogs! So, I buy those things in bulk and always have at least two plugged in somewhere. I made sure the one in the downstairs living room was new when we headed off to the airport to pick her up. Nonetheless, there was this moment of anticipation when she first walked in the house. She looked around briefly and said, "Your house smells good!" My husband and I shared a glance of happy triumph.
She wasn't wrong - I mean about our old house always smelling like a dog. How could it not? We bought it from a vet, so it was very dog friendly with the entire first floor Saltillo tile until you reached the bedroom. But they slept on the bed and the couch, and we had dog beds and blankets everywhere, and those caught the odor I'm sure. I've mentioned before that I once made the statement that I cleaned twice as hard as most people to keep my house half as clean.
As dog owners you never notice that stuff - or you don't notice it as much as others do anyway. Sometimes - like when I would come back after a business trip - it would hit me. So, while I got used to it, I knew how it looked to the outside world. If you loved my dogs, you were likely okay with it, but most people were at most neutral towards them. So, when we'd entertain, the extreme effort to clean in advance added a lot of extra work to the preparations. And who knows if it ever truly works. There's always some dog hair somewhere.
Somewhere along the way I became more self-conscious about it. Maybe enough things got said along the way. Maybe it's the just the reality of living with a toddler and a house full of toys - both human and canine - added to a demanding job that doesn't allow for a lot of party planning anyway, but every time I think of pulling together a gathering, I lose my nerve. The one time I did it went fine, though - so maybe I'm being over sensitive.
I guess the bottom line is this: if you're friends with a dog person, then the dog sort of becomes part of the deal. And all of the things that come with it: some stray hair, a little damp dog smell on a rainy day. Playing second fiddle to the dog's schedule sometimes. It's just all part of the gig. If you like me, then being a dog lover is part of my nature, so you probably can at least tolerate my four legged family members.
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| The current gang making friends |
Even with two little dogs that don't shed I think people are relunctant to come to a house with dogs. Those who do come here would rather visit with the dog than me.
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