On Saturday I pulled a clump of golden undercoat out from behind the living room radiator that was roughly the size of a dinner roll. It had been there since, I'm guessing, February. I held it up for Caleb to see and he said, "Is that a second dog?"
That's April in our house. Hank's winter coat comes out in clumps for about four weeks, Mabel sheds a fine gray layer onto anything dark, and the warm air rising off the radiators pushes all of it into the corners. Every year around now I do one real spring clean, room by room, and every year I learn something new about where the hair goes.
Brush the dog first, and outside
This is the lesson from our first spring here. I used to brush Hank in the living room on an old sheet, thinking I'd catch everything. I did not catch everything. The undercoat floated up, drifted across the oak floor and settled on the bookshelves for a month.
Now he gets brushed in the backyard on the first dry afternoon, with an undercoat rake and then a regular slicker brush. A good session fills a plastic grocery bag. The birds take some of it for their nests, which makes me feel better about the amount. Mabel gets a rubber grooming glove on the sofa, a few strokes at a time, before she decides she's done.
If you clean the house before you deshed the dog, you'll be cleaning it again on Wednesday. Ask me how I know.
Room by room
Living room. This is where Hank spends most of his day, so it's the worst. The radiators are the big one: hair and dust collect underneath and behind them, and the fins catch it like a comb. I use a long, skinny radiator brush and the vacuum's crevice tool, then wipe the floor underneath with a damp microfiber cloth. Under the gray sofa is the second hotspot. The washable rug gets its cover pulled off and run through the washer on cold, which is the main reason we bought a washable rug last year. The bottom row of the built-in bookshelves gets every book pulled out, because Hank sleeps right next to it.
Dining room. Mabel's afternoon window. The sill and the floor beneath it are covered in fine gray hair, and the lower glass has a row of nose prints at exactly cat height. Baseboards here get a damp wipe.
Kitchen. I pull the kick plate off the bottom of the fridge, and the hair under there is a whole ecosystem. Hank's food and water area gets scrubbed, and the wall behind his bowls gets wiped of drool splashes I'd stopped seeing.
Back entry. The paw-washing station from last month has done its job, but the corners still hold grit and fur. Everything gets moved, swept and mopped.
Upstairs. Mostly Mabel's territory, since Hank rarely goes up. A lint roller on the bedspread, a vacuum along the eaves, done.
Windows. Our old wood windows have aluminum storm windows on the outside, and spring is when we slide the glass panels up and the screens down. I wipe the sills and tracks while I'm at it. The tracks hold more hair than seems physically possible.
Tools that earn their keep
- A rubber broom. Pulls hair out of the rug and off the oak better than any vacuum we own.
- Lint rollers, bought in bulk. We go through more than I'd like to admit.
- A microfiber mop with washable pads for the oak floors.
- The Bissell Little Green, for the spots that appear on the rug the minute it's clean.
- Nature's Miracle enzyme spray for the dog bed and the corner of the back entry where wet-dog smell lives.
We also bought a robot vacuum about ten days ago, on sale for $279. It's too new to judge, so I'll give it a full month before I report back. So far Mabel abstains from being in any room where it's running, and has made her feelings about it extremely clear from the top of the stairs.
Where the hair hides
A short list of places I found significant amounts of dog hair this year: inside the dryer's lint trap housing (not just the screen), behind the toilet, on the hems of the living room curtains, in the tracks of the storm windows, under the radiator in the bathroom, inside the cargo area of the Outback, on the underside of the dining chairs and in Caleb's winter hat, which lives in a basket by the door and which he had apparently been wearing like that for weeks.
The house smells like clean laundry and lemon right now. Hank is lying on the freshly washed rug, shedding onto it in real time. I give it until Thursday.
