We have a new pet in the house.
No, wait; it’s our Roomba.
Our older son and daughter-in-law bought us a robotic vacuum for Christmas. They’d bought it and one for themselves on Black Friday.
It was a surprise. My mother has one, which my brother and I bought her after lots of research, but I never thought about getting one.
My husband and I already had two vacuums — old blue, the 100-year-old Electrolux that belongs in a vacuum museum, and an upright. I also have a Swiffer.
We have hardwood and tile floors, except in two bedrooms, where we have carpet.
We also have a big orange cat, so we have cat hair. I have complained about this before. We keep a towel on the couch, which is where Ashton mainly likes to lie. We bathe him, and he loves to be brushed. He will come running at the sight of the Furminator. But his hair can sometimes be seen floating like tumbleweeds across the floor.
You can’t have too many vacuum cleaners when you have a cat.
My son and DIL love their Roomba; my son put his Bluetooth speaker on top of it as it spun around and called it DJ Roomba, as seen on the TV show Parks and Recreation.
My husband was pretty excited about the Roomba. He said he’d thought about getting one, but he never told me that. Our cat was wary at first, but he’s gotten used to it.
The machine has a little home base, but it goes everywhere — under the couch, chairs and bed. Ugh. Under the bed. I’ve yet to clean out the Roomba, but my husband does, remarking on what he finds: “Oh, look, dental floss. Lots of hair.”
We learned that you have to pick up things like loose electrical cords, or the Roomba will suck them up and whip them around like a lasso. Sometimes the machine gets stuck behind furniture and needs a push.
It is strange to see it going around, brushing debris into its mouth with its little whiskers. We found ourselves talking to it. “No, don’t go over there; come here.”
The other night, when the Roomba had made a lot of rounds, my husband said, “Hey, little fella — you about ready to stop?”
“Did you just call that little fella?” I asked.
My husband laughed. “Did I? I guess I did.”
Inexplicably, I called it RoboCop one day. It does seem like an interactive robot, like R2D2 in Star Wars, but not that cool. It doesn’t talk back.
I was telling our younger son how we treat our Roomba, and he said, “Oh, yeah, they do that on purpose — they make them anthropomorphic.”
I’d forgotten that word, which means having human characteristics. And, my son said, get used to it — robots are the future.
We’re trying not to get too attached. We haven’t named him (um, yes, he’s a boy), yet. We haven’t put clothes on him.
I also read that Roombas fill an emotional “vacuum” for some of their owners.
Robotic vacuums are easy, and no scooping required. We even left him in our bedroom with the door closed and forgot about him the other day. He was perfectly fine.
My husband did mention taking him on vacation this year, but I think those long walks on the beach could be too much for the little fella.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.