The Tenacity of Drool

August 2nd, 2016

Sometimes, I make unexpected discoveries.  They won’t be written up in a science journal or earn a Nobel Prize for me.  However, these discoveries challenge my perception of daily life at our house.  The furnishings are minimal and easy to keep clean with children and a Newfoundland puppy bounding through.  The seating in our main living space is comprised of a taupe-coloured leather sofa and loveseat.  My husband and I gave up cloth-covered furniture many eons ago.  We learned from having three cats and two young boys that accidents never happen on easy to clean surfaces like tile or laminate flooring.  Nope, they always occurred on the carpet or supposedly stain resistant furniture that fails to live up to its claim.  Thus, we invested in leather. It has been good choice.  I clean it with special leather cleaner every 4 months and a weekly vacuum to suck up any stuff trapped between the cushions.  I thought that this cleaning schedule was pretty good until last weekend.

I was living dangerously by eating peanut butter-chocolate chip cookies on the sofa in front of Bailey.  She was quick to notice and set-up camp in front me, slightly leaning in as the cookie was brought up to my mouth.  It was too hot to drape the fleece lap throw over myself in order to make the drool clean-up quick.  Had I done so, it would have involved a simple toss of the throw into the washing machine.  Bailey drooled onto the couch and I responded by wiping it up with a nearby drool cloth.  Problem solved or was it?  The drool had left a discoloured patch where it had fallen – quite noticeable because it was lighter than the rest of the sofa.  I wasn’t too concerned as I headed off to retrieve the leather cleaner.  I squirted some on the patch and rubbed in a circular fashion with the cloth.  The patch became bigger.  I was stumped.  I sprayed a small section on the adjoining cushion and it too developed the same coloured patch.  The brain cells began to fire.  My clean couch was in fact quite dirty.

Bailey’s drool had stripped or, more likely, eaten away the dirt in seconds.  My clean-up had taken considerable more time due to lots of elbow grease needed.  I glanced at my drooling gal who was patiently waiting for her share of the cookies and pondered how to get that gigantic tongue to lick the entire seat cushions of the sofa.  I envisioned developing a cleaner called “Newf Be Gone” as she has an endless goober supply.  She might do it if I spread peanut butter or ice cream across each cushion top.  I banished the thought.  Bailey’s fur would be coated in a gooey mess as she searched the house for other tasty clean-up jobs.  I was on my own with this one.  While Bailey took care of the cookie crumbs and a couple of pieces without chocolate chips, I worked on the couch.  I called it a day once it was done even though the loveseat is still waiting for its turn.  The cleaning properties of Bailey’s drool remain untapped.  Until her drool factory starts up production to service this seating, I can only dream.

 

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