Professional pet care, that’s me. Like a traveling daycare worker for your dogs, I drive around all day to make sure your Fido and Rover have a chance to poop outside rather than in the family room, and I love my job. I really do.
Especially when it’s 75 degrees outside, the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, and there’s a note on the kitchen counter that says, “Feel free to take the dogs to the beach today!” Which means instead of having the team-of-oxen-cleverly-disguised-as-black-labs drag me around the neighborhood, I get to let them run (and run… and run…) on the beach while I apply just a little more sunscreen and watch them wear themselves out. When this is done right, it ends with me whistling sharply, the dogs halting their play and returning to me. I fasten their leashes on and we walk back up the hill, going home for a snack.
But yesterday things went wrong.
Oh seagull, why did you fly so low over the water, teasing the dogs to chase you? They are usually such good dogs. You must have been taunting them with insults to their heritage the way they took off after you. Wouldn’t it have been enough to then circle wheeling into the sky, screeching in that unholy way you have? No, you are an evil seagull. You had to lead them on a chase down half a mile of low-tide beach.
I whistled. I called. And the worst part is, each time I did, the dogs would stop, look at me, and then continue the chase! I finally had to go after them, running through half a mile of black, stinking low-tide mud, soaking my shoes and getting covered to the knees in crud. And just as I reached them, the stupid bird turned and started back the way we came.
It is pointless, I know, to punish dogs after the fact. If I had beaten them (as every fiber of my mud-encrusted being wanted to) they wouldn’t have understood why. (Not that I beat dogs at all anyway, but we’ve all had that feeling, I think, when they make us look like fools.) Still, I may have spent a little extra time washing them with the cold, cold water from the hose when we got home…
The note on the kitchen counter said, “Please leave the dogs in the yard after their walk, with the slider open so they can get inside.”
I know this is a bad idea. One of the dogs is a notorious fence-jumper – the whole neighborhood knows him-- and if he goes, there’s a big chance the other two might follow. But my professional best judgement is overruled by the client’s wishes, so out they go. They’re pretty tired dogs after the long run anyway; they’ll probably just nap in the sun, right?
Two hours later, I get a call from one of the neighbors. The dogs are all out. They were seen heading west. :smack: I call the owner at work and leave a message. I take care of my last two clients, and then head back to see if I can round up the hounds.
It’s 5 pm. I’ve been out since 7 am. I got 4 hours of sleep last night because of the Harry Potter movie premier. I was hoping to get home for some dinner before going out again at 7 pm to take care of my evening appointments. Now it looks like I’m working straight through.
Gas is $2.39 a gallon, and I fill up my little hatchback about three times a week. It’s going to be four times this week, since I’m driving around for an hour and a half looking for these dogs. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, full of wooded areas and wandering lanes. Lotsa places for straying dogs to hide. Occasionally I head back to the house to see if they’ve turned up there. (Hey, a girl can dream!) The owner comes home and says she’ll take over the search, and thanks me for my efforts. I tell her to call me when/if the dogs are found, and go to take care of my evening clients. I drag into my home at 9 pm, take off my muddy shoes at the door, throw my socks away, strip off my clothes in the laundry room, and head straight to the shower.
Thirty minutes later, I emerge steamy and clean, and find my husband waiting with dinner. Aaaahhhhh… I love him.
oh – and the dogs were found, all of them in different locations, by midnight. But I was sleeping by then.
This works like a charm when I’ve needed to extract my sighthound from the dog park…