I love my dogs more than anything in the world--unless my wife is reading this, in which case I love her the most and my dogs after that. We basically let them rule our house. They sleep in our bed, sit on our couches, and eat anything that I’m not actively guarding with my life, and I love them enough to put up with it all and let them lick my face even though I know they were probably eating poop just a few minutes ago.

Like a lot of people with dog allergies, my adoration for my furry buddies isn’t always what’s best for my health. I’m only a little allergic to the dogs themselves, but I’m extremely sensitive to dust and pollen, and even the cleanest dogs are always bringing in allergens from outside and stirring up dust that’s already in the house.

Among the obvious solutions to this problem are things that are quite simply never going to happen in my household: stop cuddling up with my dogs, stop letting them in the bed, severely limit their outside time, wash them all the time. I love my dogs too much to do many of the things that might seem like low-hanging fruit to people who aren’t dog lovers. And even if I didn’t, I’m pretty sure my wife is more of a dog lover than she is a husband lover, and I suspect that any kind of ultimatum would result in me sleeping in the guest room while a chihuahua sleeps on my pillow. 

So what is a dog lover with dog allergies (and dog-related allergies) to do? Here are some things my wife and I do to try to keep my allergy symptoms at a tolerable level.

I know what you’re thinking: My house has way too much dog hair for a Roomba to handle. And maybe you’re right. You might have to empty the Roomba’s bin and clean out its gears every day or two, but you know who else can’t handle cleaning up all the dog hair in your house? You can’t handle the hair.

Look, if you have so much dog hair in your house that you have to clean out the Roomba every day, then you have way too much to clean up yourself every day. Managing the Roomba will be less work than doing all of the cleaning yourself any way you shake it, and you really need to get that hair and dust out of there if you are going to control your dog allergies.

2) Ask your doctor about rotating allergy meds.

One useful tip that a doctor once gave me is to rotate my daily allergy medicine. As he explained it, there are three major types of daily allergy pills: Cetirizine (Zyrtec), Fexofenadine (Allegra), and Loratadine (Claritin). I’ve been switching from one type of daily pill to a different one about every month, and I’ve experienced some symptom relief. It didn’t fix everything, but it seems to have helped a little.

3) Consider a nasal rinse.

It looks unpleasant because it is, but pushing water in one nostril and out the other is actually a reasonably effective way of washing out both mucus and the allergens that cause it. 

If you’ve never done it before, maybe have a look at some YouTube videos to make sure you’re doing it right. I use a ten dollar bottle that I got from amazon, but you can dump upwards of a hundred bucks on on high end stuff if you want. 

4) Stay cool, man.

If you get hives or itchy skin, stay away from the hot showers and baths. The heat just makes the symptoms worse in most cases. When skin symptoms get bad, try to keep your shower as cool as you can take it. Or if you are the kind of person that just has to have a hot shower, then try to make it quick. 

5) Try locally sourced honey?

Heck, I don’t know. I don’t even like honey, but people say it works as long as it’s produced by bees that actually live near you. I’m not sure I buy it, but dog allergies suck, and you’re desperate.

So here is the thing about Dogs Playing Poker: Every dog I’ve ever met has a terrible poker face, and almost every dog I’ve ever met bluffs way too much to win at poker.

Take Flo the Chihuahua, for instance. She is very even-tempered in the sense that she’s always pissed off, and she plays poker like she does everything else—she tries to substitute anger and good looks for substance. Against an inexperienced poker player—say, my wife or Ringer the Australian Shepherd—Flo’s style can intimidate somebody into folding a stronger hand, but like literally everything else in Flo’s life, the chubby Chihuahua will inevitably overplay her hand and find herself enviously looking on as Dave the Human eats all the tacos and doesn’t give her any. The key is to use Flo’s pride against her. She just can’t bear to accept the reality that she is small and so are her cards.

Ringer, on the other hand, has no pride, so the savvy dog playing poker against this hyperactive Aussie will need a different strategy, albeit one that is relatively easy to execute. She has absolutely no capacity for reading another dog’s poker face—hence, very easy to bluff—but Ringer has a clever knack for reacting to every single hand, no matter how good or bad, with the exact same facial expression of intense excitement and happiness. Of course, this one asset isn’t enough, as Flo has long since figured out her way around Ringer’s one-trick-pony strategy.

Now, you might expect Rexi the Border Collie to be the best of the dogs playing poker in my house simply because she is clearly the smartest and most ruthless. I know I expected her to be the one to walk away from the table with a smile on her face, but it turns out that her alpha-dog ego makes her overconfident. Rexi’s not vulnerable to Flo’s scorched-earth tactics, and Ringer will basically fold her cards whenever Rexi commands it—a real flaw in Ringer’s tactics—but like a lot of bullies, Rexi freezes up when a new tough guy takes a seat at the table. Hedo the Turkey, no grand strategist herself, only had to play one beak-shaped ace to chase Rexi out of a hand, and now the border collie refuses to play poker again until after Thanksgiving.

I think it’s important that people don’t get the wrong idea about dogs playing poker. The paintings always make it look like some kind of friendly game, where the worst thing you see is maybe a bulldog trying to sneak an ace under the table while his buddy ruins his lungs with a cheap cigar. But underneath the glamor of it all is a dark truth: dogs playing poker is a messy business.

Dogs are bad at poker, and they are sore losers. They bring their preexisting beefs to the table with them, and none of them have any kind of financial plan for how to manage their losses. Dogs playing poker never ends like in the paintings. It’s all just barking, stress, hurt feelings, and financial hardships.

We’ve all seen it, the dog owner who seems blissfully unaware that they are living with the canine version of Steve Buscemi. Beauty is in the eye of the pet owner. It’s part of the magic of pets. The same thing that looks like a burnt geriatric rat might be a cute dog in the mind of a pet owner.

The crazy thing is that this weirdly makes sense to people who love dogs. I know my Rexi is objectively the most beautiful furry princess on the planet, but I know that most people think she is only one of the most beautiful. 

Naturally, other people’s failure to recognize the singular beauty of my dog drives me into a murderous rage, but during brief moments of clairity, I can see that my perception of my cute dog is driven largely by how much I love her. And lots of people love an ugly dog. 

This raises a terrifying question: How do you know when you have an ugly dog? As the person who loves it the most, you are least qualified to make the judgment, so you can start by shutting down that gut reaction you just had to dismiss the possibility that you might have an ugly dog. You don’t know any better than a three-year-old does about who deserves the title of World’s Greatest Grandpa. 

So here is my list of signs that may indicate that you are the owner of an ugly dog.

1 -- People always talk about how your “cute dog” has a “nice personality.” 

Now, some dogs both have nice personalities and are cute dogs, so you shouldn't jump to conclusions just because somebody compliments her personality. And I know what you’re thinking: A dog is not a blind date. But a dog is your best friend, and think about how you would describe your not-very-attractive friend…

2 -- Your “cute dog” breaks mirrors all of the time.

It’s not the poor dog’s fault. They have trouble controlling their emotions, and just because you are blind to his objective ugliness, the dog himself knows what he’s looking at in the mirror. Yes, I know that the pet psychologists with their fancy degrees say otherwise, but put yourself in an ugly little rat-dog’s shoes. Wouldn’t you lash out at the sight of yourself?

3 -- You’re a super villain (or maybe just any old villain).

Everybody knows that a pet is a reflection of its human’s personality, so you may have an ugly dog if you spend your time trying to take over the world, undermine GI Joe, or engage in nefarious schemes that can be easily unraveled by pot-smoking teenagers with a dog and a van. Now that I think about it, that last one is just a regular villain, not a super one. Feel free to contribute in the comments with any ideas for how to label the specific class of villain we’re talking about here.

So that’s my list. If these things don’t apply to you, then you’re probably in the clear.