Shedding Season

Snoopy must be shedding, too.

Here a pile, there a pile, everywhere a pile of doggy hair.  It's shedding season at the home of the SJG.  Clumps of Dusty collect by the front door and the stairs, under the kitchen table and bar stools.  I sweep and sweep and before I've even put the broom away, more clumps have congregated, forming their own Labradorean temple.  Once again, I must Let Go and Let Dog.  I must admit I can't control my dog's shedding ritual.  I must learn from his shedding and let go of my own mishegas.  I must admit I'm powerless in Dusty's presence.  Whatever he wants, he gets.  The outcome isn't in my hands, but, as usual, in my dog's.  My job is not to judge, but to allow Dusty to be whatever he chooses to be, which, at this time, is a Supreme Shedder.

Let Go and Let Dog.