12/20/2025
I should probably apologize in advance for something you’re going to notice this holiday season.
Not loudly. Not immediately. But right after you’ve wrapped the gifts, smoothed the tape, and stepped back to admire your work.
There it is.
A single dog hair.
Stuck perfectly in the tape like it planned this moment.
It’s funny how that happens. You vacuum. You lint-roll. You swear the house is clean. And somehow, your dog still manages to leave a small signature on every present. As if to say, I was here too.
I used to feel embarrassed about it. I’d peel it off, rewrap, try again. But over the years, something shifted. That hair stopped feeling like a mistake. It started feeling like proof.
Proof that there’s a living, breathing presence in this house that doesn’t care about perfection. Proof that joy sheds. That love leaves traces. That warmth isn’t always tidy.
Dogs don’t understand holidays the way we do. They don’t know about price tags or presentation. But they know routines change. They know boxes appear. They know something about the air feels softer, fuller. And they stay close, just in case this moment needs them.
That dog hair on the tape means there was a body stretched out nearby while you wrapped. A quiet companion watching you work. A familiar weight at your feet while you tried to make something special for someone else.
One day, there won’t be dog hair on the presents anymore.
The house will be cleaner. The wrapping will be flawless.
And I think that’s when we’ll miss it.
So if you find a little fur stuck to your gift this year, maybe don’t rush to remove it. Maybe let it be what it is. A tiny reminder that love lives here. That joy isn’t sterile. That the best things in our lives don’t come without a little mess.
They come with dog glitter.
