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This afternoon’s post will be U-less.  Utterly, ultimately U-less.  Without that unreliable, unaccepted, hopefully not unavoidable letter U.

This challenge brought to you by The Mad Grad Student’s Missing Letter Mondays.

My entire life is covered in dog hair.

Everywhere I look, tiny white or yellow hairs stare back, mocking me with their obstinate insistence on invading my space.

Floating across the hardwood.  Embedded in the armchairs.  Coating the sofa.  Leaving a filmy layer on the coffee table.

Dog hair drifts in the air, catching on lamp shades and blinds, hovering above me as I read or write or cook.

Dog hair.


They say resistance is hopeless.  That pet owners finally accept they will never again leave their home deprived of dog hair clinging to their pants, their shirts, even their sneaker laces for Pete’s sake.

Now there is dog hair in my car.  Carried in on my clothes, it hovers midair, distracting me as I drive down the road.  I absentmindedly swipe at the pieces clinging to my radio, forgetting that it’s pointless.  New hair will simply reappear the next day, darkening the dashboard and display, irritating me with their ability to persevere.

It’s like the cockroach of animal dander.  Dog hair will mostly likely withstand an atom bomb as well.  The dog hair and cockroaches will be good company for each other.

I take dog hair with me into the world, leaving it behind in libraries, grocery stores, and doctor’s offices.  In an example of extreme irony, I even leave dog hair in the car wash waiting area.

They can never let me near a “clean room.”  I might live a million years and never rid myself of this mess.

Dog hair.


And we spread the love wherever we go…