And, this is how dog lovers get ready for a concert...

Yesterday I was supposed to meet my friend Sheila at 4:30 p.m. in Montpelier, about a 45-minute drive from my house, to attend the Brandi Carlile concert. At 3:50 p.m. I went out to my car, put the key in the ignition and stopped. I couldn't go get Sheila in this vehicle it smelled decidedly doggie.
 I quickly realized that the two doggie car seats in the back of the car didn't help, so I unbuckled them, took off the two loops that attach to the seat belts and carried them one at a time into the house. Then I went back to the car to see if the smell was any better. It was, but the site wasn't. The backseat was caked with dog hair.

Up until a few months ago I had a lovely vinyl car seat cover. I say lovely because it brushed off with ease and even though the pugs travel with me a lot, my car managed to maintain a semblance of cleanliness and decorum. Then, on a rare trip with Joan in my car as opposed to her van, her constant traveling companion Mister Egg had an accident on my seat cover and even though it was vinyl and washed right up, the smell just didn't seem to leave. I threw out the seat cover and bought another. The problem was the car store didn't have an identical replacement. As a result, I had to make due with a fancy car seat cover with suede patches that act just like dog hair magnets. Now, instead of a few stray hairs here and there, the back seat of my car looked like it might be transforming into a pug itself.

I remember when my brother first brought home his pug Buffy. The breeder had told him pugs never shed. It took only a few short days to realize that she was being sarcastic.

Anyway, my backseat, now affectionately dubbed Fido, looked like it needed a grooming and rather than take off and meet Sheila at the appointed time, I decided to give it to her. I went in search of a vacuum in the garage. Since it was garbage day, this meant negotiating an obstacle course of trashbags and various other garage paraphernalia to get to the vacuum cleaner, but I did it. I then proceeded to stretch the cord as far as it would go befroe realizing that it would never reach the backseat. After a reverse trip through the the "trashy" obstacle course, I jumped in my car, threw it into reverse, turned the car around and backed up into the driveway. This time the cord reached, but even with my perserverance the vacuum did little to clear all the hairs away. It did, however, tidy Fido's appearance to an acceptable level and 15 minutes later I found myself on the road and my cell calling Sheila. "I would have been earlier I assured her," but I had to vacuum the car. I couldn't be one of those crazy dog people whose car no one wants to be in," I said.

At that point I looked down at my black coat and saw that while cleaning the car I had managed to dirty myself. I now was sporting a second coat of pug fur all over me. "I'll be there soon," I lied, as I pulled over to the side of the road to grab the lint brush from the trunk. If only I had had time to stop for an air freshener...