Wow! What a Great Dog! Does He Shed Much?

You know how when you're listening to the radio and the announcer says, "this next story contains subject matter which may be distressing to some listeners?"

Well, this blog post may be distressing to some readers who have a low tolerance for eeeeuuuuwww things. If you do, stop reading now and tune in tomorrow.

More about Ramses:

As you know, he's a massive dog. Not in the 200# variety, but in the 140# variety. Ramses is a Leonberger. It's an old German breed from Leonberg, Germany. It was bred to be the town mascot ~ the Lion Dog. Lion City, Lion Dog. Get it?

Bred in the middle of the 19th Century, Ramses' forebears were Newfoundland, Great Pyrenees, and St. Bernard dogs. Noble, hairy dogs all. They actually only have one flaw. They drool. Not just drool, mind you. They are professional droolers.

Their drool can be found on lampshades, on the ceiling cornice moulding, on the ceiling fan as it spins over the dining room table, across the Dutch master oil painting you found for $5.00 at Goodwill, on the seat of your pants, down the inside of your thigh, running down the windows in your car.

While I consider myself an evolved person, I'm sooooo not into drool.

Leonbergers don't drool. Ramses is the perfect dog. Well, there is one thing. He sheds. Leonbergers "blow their coats" a couple of times a year. This is where you have to really love euphemisms. When I say blow their coat, I mean sacks full of hair, vacuum canisters emptied three times full of hair; I mean, when they got up from the floor, they leave a dog body print of clumps of hair on the floor, the carpet. The carpet in my bedroom looks like a terrifying pilly sweater.

They are professional shedders.

And, their hair is like cashmere. Ramses' undercoat is this wonderful apricot colour. Every time I'd throw out a giant bag of hair, I'd think, "this is so wonderful, it's a shame to pitch it out."

Well, over the years, I'd watch my good friend Grita turn fibers of all kinds into glorious needlecraft. I asked her if she spun. Yes, in fact, she did. I told her about Ramses' hair. And, she allowed as how she'd like to give spinning it a try. She pronounced it lovely.

I now have an outlet for all the hair produced by my big hairy hound. Of course, it is beginning to feel a little like taking straw to the miller's daughter to spin into gold, but, so far, she doesn't cringe when I bring her a couple of sacks.


Over the years, I've given her enough of Ramses' hair to spin the wool for a Russian army officer's great coat with matching trousers and vest. Bales!

A while ago, she presented me with a scarf woven from Ramses' hair. Wow! It's fantastic. The warp is linen ~ sort of a deeper than cinnamon, lighter than oxblood red. The weft is all Ramalator! It's gorgeous.

There's only one problem . . .

When people comment on how pretty my scarf is and ask what it is made of, I always wonder what the right answer is. "Dog" feels like a bit of a conversation stopper. I'm working on it.

Day 32 Everyday Grateful ~

Sunny, bright, still. Happy.