When dust settles, it's reliable

Dependability in a vacuum cleaner is most important. PHOTO/FILE

I've been sucked in. Literally. After a long and loyal relationship with my Dyson bagless vacuum, the pull was no longer there. Although we'd spent many happy hours together going for long walks up and down the hallway and sneaking into dark spots behind furniture and under the bed, my eye had started wandering.

Eight years ago my Dyson had been top of the line. Now there were newer, younger models out there and, in light of an increasingly poor performance, I started playing the field.

Last weekend I went to a vacuum shop intent on purchasing a Miele Cat and Dog after a strong pitch from our Mrs Mop. I'd done my research, I'd read the reviews and, frankly, I was already a little bit in love.

But in the same way that a foolish man can have his eye easily diverted from the wholesome, pretty and tastefully dressed brunette across the room when a flashy blonde hussy steps in front of him with a short skirt and high heels, I got distracted by the Sauber Intelligence SI-200.

At almost $1900, it was the show pony of vacuums, with a long, sleek hose up to its neck and a power head that promised to suck like no other had ever sucked before.

And thanks to an in-store demonstration that did the opposite of suck, all of a sudden my blossoming love affair with the Miele was over, and I'd switched my allegiance to the equally German Sauber.

As I left the store with a light wallet and a heavy heart, it occurred to me that I'd just paid about four times more than I wanted to for an appliance which - thanks to our lovely Mrs Mop - I would never even use.

But I reassured myself with thoughts of what a sensible lifelong investment this was ... a bullet-proof product that would see me through the lifetimes of several moulting dogs and shaggy-haired cats.

I'll admit that up to this point in my life, I'd never felt excited about vacuuming before. But as I plugged in the Sauber, I fizzed with anticipation and delight. As she glided over my carpets sucking up pet hair with laughable ease, I realised I'd never loved my Dyson at all. Or at least never in the way I was loving my Sauber.

Then the love affair ended. The power head flickered and after a few failed attempts to restart, it died altogether.

Taking it back to the store, I was reassured that it was simply a one-off fault. I'd be sent away with a brand new one and be as happy as every other customer who'd ever made the significant investment in the same model.

But for me, the dream had died. It was like going to bed with a supermodel then waking up to morning breath and bed hair, and realising she was just like any other girl.

I realised I'd been sucked in by the bells and whistles, the fancy attachments I didn't need and the promise of a lifetime of happiness that instead had lasted only a few minutes. I wanted my Miele.

Maybe it couldn't blow-dry my dog and dust my blinds, but it was reliable. I got her home and plugged her in. She didn't look nearly as fancy, but I also didn't need to sit down for half a day to read the operating instructions. I felt confident that a new and enduring love affair was about to begin, one that would really suck.