Dirty dog, dirty house

My parents came to Abilene this weekend to help get the house cleaned and organized.  My mom was a workhorse and a slave driver!  I am very grateful to her for all her help.

We She cleaned out the pantry and made room for bottles and formula and all the other kitchen-y baby things that I haven't thought of yet.

We She tackled what used to be my craft closet in the baby room, tossing all those thrice-recycled gift bags and orphaned picture frame parts and iwasgonnagettothats.  Out with the old and in with the little!

We (really we!) relocated a wobbly piece of furniture and an old TV into the garage to make room for the crib, and cleaned out the garage as a side note to that.

But the biggest, nastiest, huge-sigh-of-relief project was cleaning out the master bedroom!  I do make an effort to keep the room very clean, sweeping and mopping the floor and dusting the furniture more than any other room in the house.  But I have to.  Because our tiny 15-pound dog is a fur factory.  But I've haven't had the courage or the upper body strength to go all the way under the heavy bed.  So when Mom helped me lift the bed onto bricks so we could pull out the rug and get under there to clean...

Holy Hairball.

Bossier is white.  His fur is white.  I can glance down at my pants right now and find one or two sparkly white strands.  We often joke when we sweep that we're going to save the hair to send to Anderson Cooper just in case he needs a wig.  But the hair under the bed was grey.  Dirty mop bucket grey.  Ew!

Don't get me wrong.  We love our dog.

(While I hate admitting this in a public forum, we actually L-O-V-E him.)

But he is Dirty.  Note the capital D.  I never really noticed this until we were faced with the reality of bringing a baby into the same home as him!
 
BK usually sleeps on our bed every night, and joins me under the covers every morning after AK lets him out to do his bizness.  Until yesterday, Austin didn't quite understand my Tough Love desire to keep Bossier off the bed, and potentially out of the room when the baby comes.  Then I showed him the dirty fur clump and gestured how tiny Baby K's lungs will be in comparison...

...and Bossier slept alone last night, presumably smack dab on the tile floor outside our closed door.