Drowning In it

October 29, 2010 at 1:27 pm 3 comments

This time I don’t think it’s your run of the mill shedding. I think Henry might be going bald. I think he might be losing his entire outfit. I always complain about dog hair around the house because it is ALWAYS AROUND THE HOUSE. God forbid we have any visitors because they all leave with an additional warmth layer on their behinds. Babies leave with a beard hanging from their drool. No one is allowed to sit down if they are wearing black fleece. And black leggings are right out as well. If this is what you have chosen as attire for the day then just turn around immediately and change your outfit before you join us for even a moment.

I should get to work knitting my family body-suits made from shaggy camel-colored yarn because that’s the only garment we could reasonably pull off these days. What? You see a little yellow dog hair? Oh that’s SUPPOSED to be there. It’s the shaggy yarn you see. Full length Thneeds (don’t tell me you haven’t read The Lorax), our all-purpose, dog hair hiding, uniforms. Absolutely required.

We are at that point.

I don’t remember our boy ever letting go of this much hair, especially right before winter. Images of a plucked-chicken dog in the middle of a snowy field, ball in mouth of course, keep running through my mind. Pocked, nubby, bare skin. Oh dear.

He is so sweet. The girls routinely use his round sleeping form as a landing pad when they launch themselves from the couch. Babies can pull his cheek jowls without a reaction. Ride him if you like, he won’t mind. He is doe-eyed and perfect in so many ways. But good gracious the hair. The dog bed he snoozes in, in between meal times and walks, is as big as a kiddie pool and two days after washing, it is completely lined with two inches of blonde duff. A nest. Big Bird’s nest. You know how sometimes when you walk through the woods you can see the remains of an animal? Bits and pieces, but mostly hair, like the animal itself evaporated leaving a hair silhouette on the ground? Our yard is like that. Several Henry-shaped hairy silhouettes.

I could reach over right now, grab any patch of hair I want and pull it straight out.

And I do. Several times a day, and I think he’s beginning to feel like a project, like an object I keep returning to, a painting I keep reworking until it’s just brown mud. When I do stop he meanders a few feet and then shakes. A mushroom cloud of happy yellow hairs fluff off of him and if he happens to be standing in a shaft of sunlight and you happen to notice the snowstorm of hair, you feel like pouncing on him like a hyena and tackling him to the ground. Only then you’d get more hairy than ever, so you don’t.


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Rituals, Candy and Costumes Included Come With Me

3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Annie  |  October 29, 2010 at 10:37 pm

    i would brush his hair everyday. give sweet henry boy a snuggle for me.

    • 2. nataliechristensen  |  October 30, 2010 at 6:53 am

      sure thing.

  • 3. kris laroche  |  October 30, 2010 at 7:50 am

    oh henny. we love you.


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