Occasionally, one will wander too far under the sofa and come out covered in snippets of thread, dry grass, dust; at which point I am grateful that another week of cleaning has been accomplished.
Naturally about the time that they became useful, they started leaking. Isn't that the way?
Why is it that every time I figure out a way to avoid housework, I soon discover that the object is both a solution and a problem?
The momma dust puppy? Well, let me tell you, she's had enough of this business of chasing them around all day. She flips on cartoons and rolls over, asleep before the first whine for milk.