By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3
My mom and I have joint custody of a fancy vacuum cleaner. A few years ago when we both needed a new one, we decided to pool our money because we live just a few steps away from each other and can easily share. We figured if we joined forces, we could afford to get one with a few bells and whistles designed to make a vacuum cleaner truly suck — in a good way.
So I did the research, read the reviews, and compared prices. Then we waited for a Black Friday sale before we made our move. A few days later, the package arrived on my doorstep, and we became the proud owners of a new Dyson stick vacuum with a feature called “laser dust detection.”
But wait, you say. Aren’t human eyes also capable of dust detection? Well, yes and no. Our eyes can see dust and pet hair, but only when it accumulates to a certain level. But if your vacuum has a laser light attached, you can see every little speck of every little thing — all lit up in disturbing detail.
Mom and I were expecting to see dog hair on the floor when we plugged in our new vacuum. But because it’s now illuminated with a green laser light, it looks like we have three thousand dogs in the house instead of just three. It’s a hair-hair-everywhere situation.
We’ve been using the laser vacuum for a couple of years now, and we still have mixed feelings about it. We love it, yet we’re also shocked and disgusted by it. Once you see through the eyes of your laser-equipped vacuum cleaner, you can’t unsee it. What might look like an ordinary kitchen floor at first glance suddenly becomes a huge, hairy mess when you see what’s actually down there. Were our naked eyes better off before technology came along and showed us the ugly truth?
But will that truth set us free? This green laser light has opened our eyes to reality, but I doubt this house will ever be hair-free. Two of our three pups are “double-coated,” which means they have an undercoat and an outer coat. The undercoat is a soft, insulating layer of fur that functions like thermal underwear, helping to regulate a dog’s body temperature. Vets advise against shaving it off. Instead, the undercoat naturally sheds or “blows out” at least twice a year.
At the height of shedding season, the undercoat begins to poke up through the outer coat in what looks like white tufts waiting to be plucked out like bolls of cotton. The dogs, however, prefer not to be plucked and have to be bribed with treats to sit still for a thorough brushing.
If it only happened twice a year, this extra hair affair would be manageable. But our dogs are overachievers who shed year-round and can sometimes drop as many as 100,000 hairs per day! If I wait too long before vacuuming, small tumbleweeds of dog hair begin to roll across the hardwood floors. Eventually, they drift into hairy sand dunes under the kitchen table, and it looks like we’ve been shearing sheep in here. We need all the vacuum power we can get.
And I must admit that laser-guided vacuuming feels so very satisfying. I’m not just randomly running this thing across the floor like I did in the ’90s. I’m now a heat-seeking missile on a mission to search and destroy all the hairy targets lit up along my path. Sometimes I vacuum with the lights off because the laser works even better in the dark. I’ve also found that when you tell a man that a vacuum has a laser on it, he’ll be vastly more interested in taking it out for a spin. If this vacuum could also show reruns of Star Trek, this place would be spotless.
Whether or not you can handle the truth served up by a laser-equipped vacuum cleaner is a personal decision. For some households, ignorance is bliss. For others, seeing is believing. And for dog-lovers like us, our floors might be hairier than average, but the dogs will always be worth it. Just grab a vacuum and suck it up.
Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.