I can’t find Robbie anywhere.
I don’t hear a peep from her; she doesn’t
come when I call.
By Nancy Gallimore, CPDT-KA
Now, before you start telling me to make posters and spread the word on every social media avenue available, you should know that Robbie is not our pet. She is our devoted household assistant. Robbie is our iRobot Roomba 695.
I remember when the Roombas first hit the stores. I sat with Jim, my partner in this crazy life, and giggled at the prospect of watching one of the little robots trying to navigate our very dog-centric home. We reasoned that the fine folks at iRobot should probably send us one for free as an extreme product testing experiment. Because trust me, no one can dish out better challenges and obstacles for a Roomba than we can.
By we, I mean me, Jim and the 20-someodd dogs that are currently residing with us at Tails You Win Farm. No, we are not destined to be the next episode on A&E’s “Hoarders.” We run a home-based rescue for Dalmatians and other dogs that find themselves in need of a place to stay for a few weeks, months or a lifetime, depending on the situation. Ours is a revolving door filled with wagging tails and muddy paws.
The answer to the question that just popped into your head is yes. They do all live in the house (right where they are supposed to be!). And here’s the answer to the next question you’re about to ask. Yes, it does present a housekeeping challenge to have so many dogs running in, out, and about our home. Dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping—heck, we even own a commercial floor scrubber—are just daily activities around here.
So, the idea that a little robot friend was ready, willing and able to help us keep up with the dirt and hairthat combine to carpet our floors seemed too good to be true. And we laughed the idea off repeatedly… until the day I saw Roomba on sale at Target. ON SALE.
I smuggled my little robot into the house and had her sitting on the charger before Jim could tell me I was a crazy person. When Jim did notice my prize purchase, he simply asked how soon it would be charged and then sat nearby, phone on video mode in great anticipation of the hilarity that was sure to ensue. If nothing else, perhaps we could make a fortune with a viral dogs vs. Roomba video, winning the big money on “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
The moment Robbie’s little battery light clicked to green (and I assumed that meant ready-to-roll because, heaven forbid, I actually read the instructions), I hit the start button, and she made the cutest beep-beepbeep noise like a teeny delivery truck warning everyone she was backing up. Once clear of her charging station, Robbie whirled around and was off!
Of course, that beep-beep-beep also served to alert every dog in the house, and the herd rushed in to see what the heck was going on. This was the moment of truth for Robbie.
Experience with remote control cars (No, we don’t have kids. Yes, we have remote control cars. What?) has taught us that sometimes the dogs like to pounce on small motorized aliens that speed through the house. In fact, sometimes they like to attempt to destroy them. At this point, Robbie was somewhat on her own, running the gauntlet with her spinning brushes and the determined whir of her little motor.
Amazingly, after several curious sniffs and a bit of stalking, the dogs decided Robbie was not very interesting and left her to do her thing. So much for winning big bucks with a video classic. But hey, chalk one up in the survived-the-dogs column of our amateur product testing spreadsheet.
One of the features that iRobot touts is that your Roomba is intelligent and will map and rememberthe layout of yourfurnishings as she explores her new territory. However, I don’t think the product development team planned for a house full of moving “furnishings.” At every turn, it seems Robbie bounces off another dog butt. Sometimes, the dogs move out of her way. Sometimes, they just give her a little side-eye and ignore her persistent bumps. And so, Robbie moves through our house in a constant state of confusion like the silver ball pinging about in a pinball machine.
I feel for her, but I applaud her tenacity. She keeps trying. I guess that’s another checkmark in the positive column for our little test subject.
Then, within days of welcoming Robbie into our home, she hit the biggest challenge of her young career. And I do mean hit. You see, when you take in a lot of rescued dogs, you are pretty much always house training someone. I’m going to let that sink in forjust a second.
There it is. You get the picture. So yeah, despite my best efforts to watch for and prevent this HUGE disaster, I turned my back for a few moments—a few horrifying, oh-dear-dog moments.
I smelled the problem before I found the problem. I’ll spare you the specific details, but let’s just say I am now intimately familiar with all of Robbie’s inner workings and how easily her brushes and wheels come off for thorough cleaning. We’re going to have to put a big red X in the “detects and avoids dog poop” column, but I will put a green checkmark in the “fairly easy to disassemble and clean” column.
“Robbie moves through our house in a constant state of confusion like the silver ball pinging about in a pinball machine.”
For the record, Robbie and I have agreed we shall never speak of this tragedy again. This was also the moment we learned we cannot take advantage of Robbie’s feature that allows you to program her to run while you are not home. Oh no. We will not subject Robbie or ourselves to the prospect of having her run through this minefield unattended.
Following the event-that-shall-not-be-discussed, things went pretty well for our little robot assistant. Oh sure, there’s no way in hell she can possibly keep up with all the floor cleaning needs this house presents, but I appreciate her willingness to go places that are hard for me to reach without some major furniture shoving.
Robbie scoots willingly under the bed to keep dust bunnies at bay and, bonus, she often shoves long-lost dog toys back into the light of day. There’s a green checkmark I bet the engineers at iRobot didn’t see coming.
She also easily glides under our couches and weaves her way through the dining room table and chair legs. She’s extremely good at sweeping along baseboards where dog hair loves to congregate. And when the early morning light causes the little white Dalmatian hairs to glisten on our floor, it’s gratifying to see Robbie’s path cutting to and fro, sucking those little demons away.
Obviously, Robbie does not have a huge collection bin tucked away in there, but I am impressed at just how much dog hair and dust she can compress into her small receptacle. I am equally impressed that she can tell me when she’s full. Holy moly, Robbie talks!
I found this out by total accident. I was home alone when I heard a woman’s voice in the otherroom. Yes, I was slightly freaked out. Then I heard the voice again and recognized it as the same female voice that apparently makes every single automated recording ever made. Seriously, it’s the same voice. That woman with the patient, monotone speech has quite a gig.
This time the voice was coming from Robbie, and she was requesting assistance. Once again that user manual I’m pretty sure I threw away would have come in really handy as Robbie repeatedly referred to a specific error code.
Fortunately, it didn’t take a genius to decide to flip Robbie on her back to take a look at her brushes. Or where her brushes were supposed to be. The only thing visible was a giant mat of dog hair. Hey, I bet that isn’t supposed to look like that. Brushes and wheels cleared, dirtreceptacle emptied, and Robbie was good to go.
We continued to hear calm messages from Robbie from time to time. Sometimes, it was because she was stuck somewhere and needed a little boost. More often than not it was because she was clogged. Then, after a few weeks, it seemed as though Robbie’s messages changed. Maybe there was an air of desperation in her tone? At times, it seemed as though she was actually gasping or even screaming.
I guess these robots are intelligent because Robbie seems to be realizing her plight. She is fighting an impossible battle around here. Admittedly, there are days she can’t seem to face reality. Just yesterday, I punched her start button, she spun in one small circle as if to survey the damage, then placed herself right back on her base.
“Not today. I have a migraine,” I imagined the now-tired voice mumbling.
But now she’s just gone. Not a word. No note. No trail of bread crumbs to follow. I think she packed her little iRobot suitcase and moved out.
It’s also possible there is something so unspeakable under my bed that she is trapped and cowering in some dark corner. I’ll try to find her. I’ll apologize. I’ll give her a good cleaning and a few days off. Then maybe I’ll get a couple more Roombas. Maybe she just needs her own little army to tackle this mess we call home.
Stay tuned. It will either be a great idea, or the robots will take over Tails You Win Farm in a revolt that would make George Orwell proud. In that case, Jim, Nancy and 20-someodd dogs may need a place to stay.
