I might say it’s shedding season at our house. However, although many breeds shed in the spring and fall, our pups’ white-and-black fur is scattered with abandon, twelve months a year.
Their shedding is perpetual. But, at times, it ramps up. In our home, currently, we have dog hair to spare, so much we could bale it. Or, to quote someone whose name I do not recall, “enough loose fur to make another dog.”
One of our pups hits “Refresh.” We hear the “ear-flapping” sound (you know that sound) and—whoosh—the pup has a new coat. Our floor has a new coat, too, as does the piano, the dining room table, the couch. Our entire home is well fur-nished, even though my husband, Jimmy, designed and built a grooming table for them and we give it lots of use.
Our pups cuddle with us while we watch old movies in the evening, perhaps sensing their kinship with our ever-furry couch.
I’m not complaining. I’ve seen cases of shedding that are fur worse. Or, just more. My costuming friend, Cynthia, adores her Great Pyrenees companions. They do, though, require a great deal of brushing. And sweeping-up, afterward.
Samson and Delilah, well-mannered and perfectly groomed. It’s worth it.
Cynthia and her Great Pyrenees pals out for a stroll.
We love these dogs inordinately. They enrich our world.
Our world is messy, and so is life.
Day after day, we stretch and grow. Our coats lengthen and mat, our paws get muddy, the air needs freshening.
Our world needs freshening.
And our country—torn from within and assailed from without, our identity clouded, and our unity in question—our country needs freshening, too. I have known that. Haven’t you?
Perhaps it’s unsurprising; a cosmic paw hit “Refresh.” We heard the “ear-flapping” sound and—whoosh! The fur flew. Someone sneezed. Many hands grabbed brooms.
But again—whoosh! Again, and again, and again.
Yet, where there is great love, there is great purpose.
Where there is great purpose, there is patience, perseverance, strength of spirit.
And again and again and again,
Love Will Win.
