Hair of the Dog Sweater

This is the prequal to yesterday’s post about dog sweaters.  I decided it might go nicely today.

My son John lives to torment my mother. Buzzy, our American Eskimo Dog sheds incessantly, making us vacuum every day to stay ahead of him. One day my husband Bud noticed a big paper bag on the mantle stuffed full of Buzzy’s combings, hair pulled from his brush, and hair swept from the floor. Amazed, Bud asked, “What in the world is this bag of dog hair doing up here?”

Mother chimed in, “Oh, that’s Buzzy’s hair I saved up for your sweater.” This was the first Bud had heard of his dog hair sweater. He thought maybe Mother had finally come unhinged. “What dog hair sweater?”

“The one you’re going to get the woman at work to make for you out of Buzzy’s hair.” Mother thought Bud was losing it. “John told me to be careful to gather up all the hair I could find every time I came over so that woman you work with can spin it and make it into a sweater for you. How long do you think it will take to get enough?”

Poor Bud had to break her heart. “John’s been pulling your leg, again. There ain’t gonna be no dog hair sweater.”

 

 

My son, John

John as Jason

 

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Dog Sweater

Above you can see my American Eskimo Dog, Buzzy.  He is a pure delight, except for shedding.  I brush him several times a week.  Pictured below is the pile of hair I brushed out this morning.  The fibers are long, silky, and soft as rabbit fur.  I have long thought it would make a beautiful sweater.  I believe I could collect enough in a few weeks, but am not industrious enough to learn spinning.  I need to get to work.  I am wasting a valuable renewable resource.
I found the pictures below on a Russian sale site of garments made of various kinds of dog hair, including Spitz, Akita, Samoyed, and Eskies.  The health, warmth, and durability are highly touted.  Check out this site.  https://www.livemaster.com/masterpr        Shop at Livedogsnitka(MasterPr).

The Honorable Bacon Boy and Puppy Love

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American Eskimo dogs stole our hearts many years ago when George showed up at our house and adopted us. No matter that we already had a Dalmatian and weren’t in the market for another dog. Unfortunately, George left us far too soon. It wasn’t long before another puppy baby puddled up our floors. I gave Bubba a fuzzy white plush toy to comfort him leaving his mom and siblings. He dragged it till it was nothing but dirty body parts. Just before it bit the dust, the UPS man showed up at the door with this plush toy we ordered from Beggin’ Strips. Bubba, like all dogs, believed that UPS man showed up only to steal our stuff, so was frenzied as always. He was overjoyed when we opened the box and he pulled Bacon Boy from the box. It was just as he’d expected, the UPS guy almost got away with the good stuff.
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Sissy, a female Eskie joined us when Bubba as about six. Though she had her own fuzzy white crib toy! she coveted Bubba’s treasure, but was rarely fortunate enough to snag it for more than a minute. I think her finest moments were when Bubba was outdoors, asleep or best of all, had to journey to the vet leaving her to savor an unmolested moment with Bacon Boy. Had Bubba only suspected the raw emotions she shared with Bacon Boy, there would have been Hell to pay.

Sadly, after Bubba went to his reward, Sissy grieved, but comforted herself with her darling Bacon Boy. Sometimes she got so cozy with him, we had to hide him when we had guests. Before too long, we got Buzzy to be her companion. Like the others, he got his own baby, but quickly realized what a prize Sissy had in Bacon Boy, and occasionally got to play with him. Those moments were few and far between.
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The saga continues today with Buzzy’s devotion as Sissy’s sad demise. He can’t sleep without Bacon Boy. As often as he is able, he slips Bacon Boy out to the yard, but we hustle him in as soon as possible after a game of keep away. Bacon Boy is showing his age. He’s lost the bacon strip he was holding on his arrival. I fear his is deaf because of his missing ears, mute and without a sense of smell since his nose and mouth are worn off and blind since his eyes are white with cataracts. I’m sure he has gastric distress as a result of numerous surgeries to replace his tattered innards. His fur is dirty and battered beyond what any washing can handle. I wish human elders were cherished the way Buzzy’s Bacon Boy is. Dogs can teach us something about unconditional love.

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Tale of the Hair of the Dog Sweater

Mother and BuzzyimageMy son John lives to torment my mother.  Buzzy, our American Eskimo Dog sheds incessantly, making up vacuum every day to stay ahead of him.  One day my husband Bud noticed a big paper bag on the mantle stuff full of Buzzy’s combings, hair pulled from his brush, and hair swept from the floor.  Amazed, Bud asked, “What in the world is this bag of dog hair doing up here?”

Mother chimed in, “Oh, that’s Buzzy’s hair I saved up for your sweater.”

This was the first Bud had heard of his dog hair sweater.  He thought maybe Mother had finally come unhinged.  “What dog hair sweater?”

“The one you’re going to get the woman at work to make for you out of Buzzy’s hair.”  Mother thought Bud was losing it.   “John told me to be careful to gather up all the hair I could find every time I came over so that woman you work with can spin it and make it into a sweater for you.  How long do you think it will take to get enough?”

Poor Bud had to break her heart.  “John’s been pulling your leg, again.  There ain’t gonna be no dog hair sweater.”

imageMy son, looking his best.

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Photo of hair I brushed out of Buzzy this morning, pictured next to pint jar.

Buzzy’s Exotic Vacation

imageOn our recent trip, Buzzy had a great time visiting family.  Lest I mislead you, I never claimed he was a brave dog.  He ran from some house cats, but they were bob-tailed.  In his defense, He’d never seen a bob-tailed cat and was unsure how dangerous they might prove to be.  He walked into a swimming pool by accident, his first experience with one.  He was an excellent swimmer, but had no idea how to get out.  He seemed to enjoy his little swim.image

His introduction to Aunt Beulah’s chickens was hysterical.  He was waiting expectantly when she opened the door to the hen house.  When Bonnie and Clyde strutted out, he set a new land-speed record for American Eskimo Dogs, if there wasn’t one before.  I believe he would have passed up Greyhounds trying to escape those bobbling fowl, even though they showed no interest whatsoever in him.

We are back home now.  I’ll keep you posted of his future adventures.

Buzzy the Barbarian

imageMy dog Buzzy weighs twenty-five pounds.  Twenty-five nipple-stomping,bladder-compressing, and according to some sources scrotum-squashing pounds.  I don’t know how or why he does this, but if he catches one of us stretched out on the sofa, he makes a bee-line for our recumbent body, leaping on our tenderest portions joyously.  I don’t know how he’s lived this long, except that by the time we’ve recovered, he’s moved on. He looks sweet, but he’s a killer.