Look, I get it if you don’t want hair on things. My mum didn’t, when my family was getting a dog.
But you know what we did? We looked into breeds that didn’t shed and got a maltese-poodle cross we named Oreo, and invest more into keeping Oreo’s fur trimmed and neat since she doesn’t shed.
It’s hardly rocket science. You don’t want hair on stuff? You have the time and are willing and able to pay more to have a dog groomed frequently, if it means no hair on stuff? Fine! That’s valid! So get a non-sheeding breed and commit to investing more time and money into keeping the dog groomed, or if that’s not an option, just plain don’t get a dog!
Other people don’t mind shedding. They can have the labs, corgis, and dalmations, that’s fine. You still have a few terrier breeds, poodles, maltese, etc. and their cross-breeds. Tradeoff is that the grooming is more expensive and labour-intensive, but hey, no fur on couches. That was a commitment my family was willing to and could make. I brush Oreo’s fur everyday, my parents pay for and take her to grooming appointments every couple months, and in return Oreo gets to cuddle with me in bed at night and on the couch with my dad in the morning. We don’t have fur on the couch, Oreo gets to go on the couch, we’re all happy.
Don’t get a dog that sheds if you can’t put up with shedding, but don’t get a dog that doesn’t shed if you can’t invest the time and money into keeping its fur neat, like a halfway decent owner.
“She railed at him for debating the divorce of his formidable wife: ‘Did I not tell you that whenever you disputed with the queen she was sure to have the upper hand?’ she snapped. Another time, she was in the king’s privy chamber and, hearing that Wolsey was hovering importantly outside, waiting for her dismissal and the commencement of men’s business, she rapped out a message for him to come and join them: ‘Where else should he come, except where the king is?’
As we see from this, she interpreted the role of courtly lady to the utmost of its potential. She became more powerful than any man. Paradoxically, once it was recognised that she and no other– not her father Thomas, not her uncle Norfolk– was now ‘the true inheritor of that ultimate royal favour that had been Wolsey’s strength’,she attracted a degree of enmity more usually associated with hated male favourites than mistresses. Perhaps the manner of her operations – as an incarnation of the eternal feminine – aggravated her enemies’ frustrations by making it impossible for them to compete.
[For] they were men. It was hardly in the Duke of Suffolk’s remit to spring like a nymph onto the back of Henry’s saddle and ride off in pillion with him, laughing and whispering into his ear. But Anne could. With her wit, her dazzle, her ludic, punning Burgundian manners, she melted into his dream of Albion.”
FantasyBoudicca 