You’ll have heard the expression ‘retail therapy’ whereby shoppers make themselves happy by buying stuff. Or try to because I suppose the ‘happiness’ dividend of any purchase is a factor of individual circumstances…
What is being purchased? Is it required? Or just desired? Can it be afforded?…
I am currently in the market for a new stair carpet – a decision long overdue and hastened by the professional carpet clean I opted for last year which achieved bugger all. My stairs looked clean for a few days only for the stains to quickly reappear, I suspect once my payment had been processed and makes me think they were somehow in cahoots with this ruse.
I should add that needing to replace my stair carpet is my fault. A problem that my older brother will not encounter because he laid down clear house rules and he stuck to them.
Shoes off in the house. His dog is confined to the ground floor and it must wonder what goes on upstairs…
I laid down similar rules but they were never enforced – a polite way of saying that dad was ignored.
Tessa is an access-all-areas-dog and her paws are not wiped at the threshold either.
Down the years, any workmen to our house, whenever they suggest they might remove their shoes, my refrain has always been…
‘…don’t worry lads. Shoes are fine. We have four boys and a dog..’
It always got a wry smile, but whose smiling now?
Well, me actually.
Because the carpet ‘surveyor’ has just visited Chez-Holland (that’s French btw) and we’ve agreed a price, I’ve made payment and my purchase provides me with much joy.
The surveyor was an ultra-polite Indian chap. Bang on time for his appointment, on opening the front door to him, he even asked if he could enter my house.
Of course, how else will you measure my two flights of stairs? But his unusual question related to the presence of our beloved Tessa who was standing behind me and probably staring at the man with a tape measure and an ipad.
Whether he was terrified of dogs in general or just Staffordshire Bull Terriers I don’t know, but he took some persuading to coax him over the threshold.
As per, I risked a joke which did not land.
“Don’t worry, she’s been fed.”
And when the new carpet arrives and is fitted, no doubt it will spruce up the house no-end and will be worth the financial hit.
And to protect it there will need to be some newly drafted house rules. My brother will smile at this because he was right all along. We still have four boys albeit only two are officially in-residence but the other two are frequent visitors.
They will all need to understand that outdoor footwear never hits the stairs again, with no exceptions. A new and immutable rule.
But this is a folly, of course.
Because the main culprit for treading dirt upstairs is less easy to negotiate with. Impossible in fact. The prospect of Tessa being confined to downstairs is not going to happen – even if I decreed it.
And I would quickly cave in anyway because she has a secret weapon for getting what she wants. She has these yearning eyes. Eyes that can communicate every bit as clearly as any language. Bulgy eyes we call them. They cannot be ignored and they must be obeyed.
Which in this instance, is access-all-areas including any bedroom of her choosing.
So the new carpet will not endure like it should. And so what.
A happy dog is a happy home and some costs are just worth suffering.
Tessa Holland is seen here (with bulgy eyes) sporting the brand new Brothers Trust Dogs Collar. Made in Kenya, sold worldwide, and with ALL proceeds going to The Lunchbowl Network to feed and educate kids living in Kibera, the largest slum in Sub-Saharan Africa.