Dear Wise Advice, Help me! I’m drowning in dog hair! The vacuum cleaner died today. I gave it a little rest, as I often do when it quits, but today, it just wouldn’t start up again. I am frantic! What if I choke to death on Bubba’s hair? He’s shedding like no body’s business. There’s dog hair everywhere! It’s on my furniture (yeah, I know that’s why they call it FURniture), in my bed and my fridge. My clothes are covered with the stuff. I groom Bubba all the time, yet everyday, I gather a bagful. I say to him, “Look Bubba, we can make little sweaters for all the children in Alaska”. I’m dead serious. Can you send one of those crisis teams to help me? Do you have one for hoovers? Yours truly, Mrs. N. Frittata-Chicago.
Dear Mrs. Frittata, Gather yourself there Nellie! Help is in the way. As it happens, my new sweetie once had a job as … yes! a vacuum cleaner repair-person! The entire team will consist of my sweetie, two Mounties (you never know), a retired accountant and a few musicians from Symphony Nova Scotia (they’re a little bored). Be on the lookout for a VERY tiny vehicle. Our gas budget is shot, dear… so we’ll need to pile them into an Echo or some other affordable car. Maybe you could take Bubba to the Chicago off leash Dog Play Group while you’re waiting for the team to arrive. I hear they’re going on a cruise and to a bar this weekend. I would save that hair if I were you. That’s a cottage industry in the making if I ever heard one! ‘Frittata Wear’. Has a nice ring to it, eh?