Hair Today and More Hair Tomorrow
Take a moment and really look at this pile of fur. Not just a glance—really see it.
What do you notice? The mess? The dirt? The work it represents?
You wouldn’t be wrong. It is all of those things.
But to me, it’s also something more.
Every single day—without fail—I sweep my floors and gather up a pile just like this. Every day. It’s almost unbelievable when you think about it. At this point, at least one of my dogs should be completely bald. Maybe all of them. And yet… there’s always more.
When we built this home, we chose polished concrete floors on purpose. We thought we were being practical. Easy to clean. Easy to manage. And yes, they are all of those things.
But what I didn’t fully realize back then was this—
these floors don’t hide anything.
They don’t hide the fur.
They don’t hide the life.
And my goodness… there is so much life here.
Nine dogs. Nine beating hearts. Nine little souls moving through my home, leaving pieces of themselves behind in the most ordinary way. None of them are long-haired, yet somehow they shed like they’re preparing for winter year-round. Maybe when we had carpet, I didn’t notice as much. Or maybe I just didn’t understand what I was seeing.
Because now, I do.
I know what you might be thinking—how can anyone live like that?
And the answer is simple: with love… and a good broom… and a husband who, after 42 years, has learned to just accept that fur is part of the family.
So if you ever come to my home, here’s my only warning—don’t look too closely at the floor. Or under the furniture. Or anywhere, really. Because the truth is, fur lives here. It belongs here. It’s as much a part of this home as laughter, muddy paws, and the quiet comfort of never being alone.
You’ll find it on my clothes (especially the black ones I continue to wear for reasons I don’t understand). It’s on my bed, my pillows… woven into the everyday moments of my life. And trying to remove it completely? That’s a losing battle.
But here’s the part that matters most…
I don’t mind. Not really.
Because somewhere deep in my heart, I know these days won’t last forever.
There will come a time—sooner than I want to admit—when the floors stay clean a little longer. When the house feels a little quieter. When my hands won’t reach down as often to feel a warm head or a wagging tail.
And on that day… I will miss this.
I will miss the sweeping.
I will miss the mess.
I will miss the fur.
Because every strand is proof of a life that was loved… and a love that filled this home in ways words could never quite capture.
One of the greatest comforts of my faith is believing that a place is being prepared for me. And I like to think that when I get there, it will feel familiar.
There will be warm paws.
Happy tails.
Slobbery kisses.
And yes… there will be fur.
And in that moment, I will know—without a doubt—
I am home.
