Just the other day a friend oh so casually asked me if I knew of any reliable dog sitters that would come to the house and care for their dog while they were on vacation. Before she could take a breath between that sentence and the next I whipped the card for the boarding kennel we use out of my wallet so fast it made her hair flutter in the air current of my movements.
"NO, I DO NOT", I stated emphatically as I forced her fingers around the bright yellow card. "Call these people. They are excellent and your dog will never want to come home." Then I hastily excused myself from her company as fast as I could using false pretenses because I could see where this conversation was heading and there wasn't a chance in a deep frozen hell I was going for that ride.
Dog sitting is dangerous business best left to the professionals. Caring for someones pet is akin to being blindfolded in a labyrinth of hidden landmines with a deadline to get through it. Trust me on this, I KNOW OF WHICH I SPEAK.
Not far enough in the past that I can claim vague recollections, SuperHubby and I were guilted into taking care of our neighbor's four month old puppy while they traveled to Florida for 10 days. Why anyone would take possession of a four month old puppy knowing they are about to go away is a question I still toss up to the universe when the memories come back to torment me. The universe, I fear, cannot adequately answer this question except to state that people are often stupid in the extreme. I say guilted into this action because the same neighbors decided to bring their new puppy into our backyard, despite being warned that one of our dogs is unfriendly to her kind and is always a complete bitch about encroachment of her territory. Of course the inevitable occurred when the puppy was left unsupervised for a few brief moments and she wandered too close to Shadow and the puppy got a bloody lip and ear for her transgression. The neighbors were horrified and being the saps we are, we agreed to take care of the dog, at their house, so her lip and ear could heal properly while they went sunbathing. Can anyone say "I smell a set up?"
SuperHubby and I split the schedule, he would take the afternoons and post-dinner shifts. This left me with the early morning and late night visits with the dog. The puppy was crated, which was probably a good thing considering, but she was so excited to get out when she could, that she went bat shit crazy and ran around like a loon, jumping all over the furniture, ripping around the yard, bounding up and down the stairs and trying to crawl into my skin looking for affection. It's hard to resist that kind of over the top puppy goofiness and as I mentioned I'm a sap so I spent extra time to play with her every day and clearly she was not to be allowed into our yard with the crazy attack dog. The mornings were the toughest, as I had to stumble out of the house earlier than usual and mornings just suck major balls when faced at 5 am. I would make the coffee, grab a to-go cup and stumble across the yard, eyes barely open and brain still not chugging on all gears. When I opened the door one morning the smell, OH MY HOLY FUCKING GODS THE SMELL hit me like a bat in the face. What horrible thing happened in here, I wondered stumbling through the fog of stench. And there it was. The puppy had had a major case of the shits all over herself, the crate, the floor outside the crate and somehow on the wall. And it had been there a while as some of it was cement dry on the carpet.
Now, there is not enough coffee or goodwill in the world that makes facing this kind of mess easier at that unholy hour of the morning. None, Nada, Zilch. The really mean nasty part of me that lives not that far below the surface wanted to call this neighbor on his cell phone and tell him to get his fucking ass on a plane to come deal with his dog as this is a deal breaker. I don't like to clean up my own dog's messes and this was waaaaayyyy over the line of neighborly favors. But the damn dog was looking at me with those stupid puppy eyes, covered in shit and trembling with eagerness to get out of her crate. Well Hell, who could blame her? I wanted out of the shit infested house too. Out she came and I shoved her filthy body out the door to do whatever business she had left in her so I could begin to clean up, cursing and bitching at every step. I dismantled the crate and cleaned it off, washed down the walls, sprayed about three cans of Lysol in the house because THE STINK WOULD NOT GO AWAY and continued to turn the air blue with very inventive expletives. Then the dog finally got bathed, which just made a bigger mess. As we two, one now clean and the other now filthy, stood there viewing the dried shit remnants sticking to the carpet I realized a vacuum was needed and went to hunt one up.
This was no easy clean up with the vacuum being old and not so reliable. It started to smoke and whine. Only the whine turned out to be the smoke alarm. It was part of a fancy wall unit and the only way I could find to stop the shrill fucking sound coming from the box was to hit the off button. It's worth noting that my caffeine intake at this point was not adequate with one cup and I was mad, dirty and bordering on homicidal. Back to vacuuming I went. And then the phone rang. Turns out the fancy wall unit was a security system and when the fire alarm went off, someone somewhere else in the world knew it. And when the alarm was turned off they knew that too and they wanted to know if everything was okay.
Yes, I said, and succinctly outlined the predicament.
Can you rearm the security system, they asked suspiciously.
No, I don't have the codes, said I.
Hmm, they said and off the phone we went.
A moment later I heard the distinctive sound of police car sirens and noticed the police car in front of the house. I closed my eyes and opened the door. There's been a fire reported here, he says.
No fire, I say through smiling through gritted teeth. the vacuum overheated and the alarm went off. He strolls through the door, eying me up and down and asked if I'm the home owner.
No, I say, waving my hand toward the back yard, I'm the neighbor, caring for the dog and outlined the predicament. Your name? he asks suspiciously, pulling out his notebook. I close my eyes and tell him my name, address and phone. Can I finish cleaning up, I ask? Sure he says, petting the happy puppy who clearly thinks the policeman came to see her.
As I headed back to the vacuum, because thieving arsonists always answer the door for the police and clean up after themselves, I heard the distinctive sound of fire truck alarms and saw not one, but two, fire trucks out front. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I glanced at the policeman. He says, All fire alarms have to be investigated. I opened the door, really really wishing for more coffee. There's been a fire reported at this address, says the fireman.
NO FIRE, I forcefully respond. That thing, pointing to the vacuum, overheated and outlined the predicament one more time. They stroll through the door and begin to wave some sci-fi heat sensor thingy over the vacuum. Yep, it's hot, one of them says. Somehow I restrained myself from yelling, "Of course it is you fuckhead morons, it overheated. Can't you see and smell the dried shit it's been trying to suck from the carpet?" I just closed my eyes and waited while they checked the rest of the house. And then I heard the distinctive sound of an ambulance alarm, saw it pull up in front of the house and heard the officer say it had been too late to call them off.
And so it was at 6:00 am one morning, the entire emergency response team showed up because a dog shit all over the house, a vacuum overheated and a neighbor agreed to dog sit.
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