I grew up a dog person. I suppose that was mostly up to my parents, as I just kind of went along with them as they bought dogs. And took in dogs as strays. And broke my heart by getting a poodle when I wanted a Kuvasz or a Chesapeake Bay Retriever after studying the dog reference book for months. But now, as an adult, I have a cat. The world’s most broken, expensive feline. And his hair gets absolutely everywhere. Despite being what I understand to be a short-haired cat. Dumb.
So, if you are a serious reader of this website… you need to get out more. But you may also recall my riveting review of the Bissell Pet Hair Eraser Handheld Vacuum 33A1. That was our first attempt to keep the feline hair under control. And it worked great. For a while. But, over time, it became a pain to plug in, listen to the jet airplane-like noise level and the varying ability to suck black and white hair off our brown couch. It just became too much. And I got lazy. But I still needed to clear the detritus from my furniture because I’m not a hopeless shut-in. I haven’t moved to the housecoat and slippers as daily uniform yet. Yet.
So I went on the Internet and looked to see how others take care of the mess our pets make. And, honestly, the beds of crumbs that seem to form after Hipster Jr. Jr. decides to eat a sleeve of Ritz crackers like the cookie monster after a tube of speed. And this weirdo ChomChom thing kept coming up. Great, a lint roller. And not even one of those sticky ones with the peel-off sheets. Nope, just one of those red velvet-like things that your grandparents used to sweep bread bits from their polyester tablecloth. Or the old-school lint brush Don Draper might have used to brush the hairs of his mistresses off his impeccable suit. But stuck in this plastic housing with a rotating rubber thing that doesn’t seem to rotate the way you’d think it would. Plus, you have to do this very aggressive, wacky back-and-forth action that they show you in the following video.
It’s kind of absurd. And sounds like it’s either breaking or is going to break if and when you use it the way they tell you to use it. My first time, I was like, “This can’t possibly be how this thing works.” But, you know what? It does. It works like a charm. It’s amazing for spot cleanups, but I realize is a much more efficient tool in cleaning up the whole couch than the vacuum. It’s much easier to manipulate and I can essentially grab each pillow, do some runs and the things are clean. Plus, I get a bit of a workout. That muscle in my forearm has me pushing Popeye levels. So, yes, if you’re a 90-year-old cat lady, this probably isn’t for you. But if you’re able-bodied and don’t mind a little rigorous elbow grease, this thing actually works really well. Despite seeming like a total gimmick
Look, I love tech. Anything that plugs in. Anything that lights up. Anything I can connect to an app or the Internet. But sometimes there is a manual solution for something that outstrips the more modern item. It’s not something I like to readily admit, but in the case of the ChomChom, it is purpose built to remove pet hair. And that’s exactly what it does. I can’t say the $30 price tag feels like a deal. In fact, for what you get it feels a bit expensive. So, do what I do and go to cost per use. If you have a pet and use this thing even once a week over the span of that pet’s lifetime (depending on their propensity to shed), you have a pretty big bargain at the end of the day. And one that actually does what it promises.
