Why we have cats, I think

My niece, M, is a serious dog person. She works in the canine business, she has more control over any dog that ever lived than Uncle Matty, and of course, she has dogs. This was where we spent Christmas Day. We left the cats home.

The senior citizen is a good-natured mutt of nearly 12 who came to her when she worked in a vet clinic, more or less in pieces. She rebuilt the mutt (and had to be restrained from dismantling the dog's former bad owners) and it's been love ever since.

M is not a large person. A bit taller than her mother, who is also a dogophile, but not large at all. I leave it to psychiatrists to suggest why small people own large dogs, but M has taken the tendency to extremes.

Apart from the normal-sized mutt, she now has three dogs that ranging from merely large to enormous. On an ascending scale they are an American Staffordshire terrier bitch (you too can call yourself by a five-dollar name instead of "pit bull" when you get a five-page pedigree). Next we have the newcomer, a French Mastiff, a mere puppy of ten months and about 110 pounds. Finally we have the self-styled Momma dog, an English bull mastiff bitch who weighs just a shade less than a bull. Mutt included, the house has over 400 pounds of dog: large, loud, or both. They are very well-behaved unless you show up unannounced, because my niece is absolutely alpha dog in this pack. Anything M can't control, Momma dog can.

The French mastiff puppy decided that he and I should be special friends. I enjoy friendly dogs, but mastiffs have this drool issue. If this one decided to attack you, it would be a question whether you would drown before he made pulled pork of you. After he was reproved for inappropriate conduct, he kept sidling back to make sure we were still buddies, leaving another pint of canine mucus as a calling card.

Does anyone have helpful hints for removing dog drool from dress slacks?