Once upon a time, when I lived in DC on Capitol Hill in a sweet little townhouse, I actually cared about what my living room looked like. I had a lovely leather couch, and the chairs all gleamed with nary a dog hair anywhere. Nowadays, I am lucky to be able to tell what color the furniture is; sometimes it is tri-color, sometimes red or blue merle, brindle, or that ever popular favorite, black and white. Dog hair, I mean. When I do an intake interview at this time of year when we can’t sit out on the deck, I have to whip out my wonderful new Dyson vac and try to at least remove the top layers. Never mind, it’s all worth it to see the contentment on my boarders’ faces as they nestle on the couch on a cold winter morn or eve.