This two-year-old “Summa Dog” (“summa this, summa that,” our best guess…collie, golden retriever and chow) leaps four-foot fences with ease and could keep up with any greyhound, or horse for that matter.
Playing sessions in our diminutive back yard have given our lawn a serious case of male pattern baldness. Beckett’s dirt track has us throwing up our hands. As landscapers, we surrender. Seeing how happy it makes him to tear around the dirt, the aesthetic trade is a no-brainer.
As the grass acquiesced, it seemed that more and more backyard dirt began to hitchhike into our house from Beckett’s paws. Our house was dustier than usual. But the real frustration was when it would rain or when the snow would melt.
Doggy footprints would tattoo the floor and find their way onto our old white couch (R.I.P), and even on our bedspread (R.I.P). Our second mop was spent (R.I.P). Finally it occurred to us to treat the cause and not the symptom.
While cleaning mitts looked interesting, it seemed like an odd fix. When my hands are covered in mud, I don’t just rub them on a towel, I use water.