24 Hours Into a Dog-sitting Gig
And my life was completely turned upside down.
Guys. I just stumbled across a really old article I published elsewhere in 2019 that had me laughing all the way to a funny farm. So, of course, Iām sharing it becauseā¦ughā¦Mondays.
What else is there to laugh at on a Monday besides dogs (and work inboxes)?
Things you should know before you read this:
I said I was too old for puppy life but as you all know, itās not true because a year after publishing this, I adopted another puppy š
Hereās the story:
This may sound more like a diary entry than an article, but I have to write this out in order to therapize myself. Iām doing some major woooosaaahhh up in here.
Yesterday, I started a dog-sitting gig for a friend of the family. She is currently gallivanting around Paris while Iām sitting here feeling like I just became the parent of a high-needs toddler.
I think I may be too old for puppies at this stage in life.
Harley is his name, and heās a 9-month-old Labradoodle. Is that how you even spell it? Itās a weird name for a dog breed. Iām not sure Iād buy any dog with the word ādoodleā in the name.
I took the gig, firstly because heās a dog. I love dogs and I thought this would be a great way to fill the blank space in my life since the loss of my own dog, five years ago.
I also took the gig because letās face it, Iām making more money doing this than Iāll ever make writing. Besides, Harleyās mom paid me in advance.
When she transferred me the chunk of money the other day, I did what any logical person would do. I bought a memory foam mattress topper, new luxury sheets and a set of fantastic pillows for a bed I wonāt be sleeping in for ten days.
This gig is a live-in situation so Iām Harleyās housekeeper now, and lord does he need one. This morning, at the wee hour of 6:30 am, he decided to start ripping around the yard at Mach 5.
Who does anything at that hour, let alone activities at warp speed?
Of course, he only ripped around the muddy parts of the yard though. It rained last night. Harley now looks like a black lab, more than a golden Labradoodle.
Speaking of 6:30 am, I havenāt seen that hour since I had a vacation flight to catch. But this is no vacation. Far from it.
Dog-sitting Harley is a high-maintenance gig. His mom has spent a ton of time and money on professional puppy training so I need to respect that. Iād hate to be the undoing of his entire life in a mere ten days.
I can tell his mom is retired and has all the time in the world for him, because each time I sit down in front of my laptop he walks up and paws at my arm while staring at me. Itās as if I should have nothing better to do than hang with him.
This is like when youāre a parent and your kids always want attention the minute you get on a phone call.
Iāve only been here for 24 hours. How the hell am I going to get ANY writing done if I have to shake a paw every five minutes?
At the front and back doors of this house, there are large plastic bins with lids, full of shoes. I learned the hard way that my shoes should have been inside the containers.
A quiet evening of Netflix last night was out of the question. Harley has a lot of bones and the house has hardwood flooring. Bones clunking around on floors doesnāt make for a peaceful evening.
Aside from the fact that he rips around in the mud and then runs full speed toward the patio door, slamming into it, heās a very well-behaved puppy.
He (mostly) listens when you give a command, he sits patiently when he sees his leash, and he doesnāt whine when confined because heās wet and muddy.
And the absolute most impressive thing about Harley? Heās not at my heels when I crinkle a chip bag, nor does he beg at the dinner table. Itās like he doesnāt even understand the concept of human food.
Nicely done, Harleyās mom! Nicely done.
When I feel the frustration coming on I try putting myself in his position. Heās had his mom 24/7 his entire, short little life. Now sheās gone and he probably feels lost without her.
Iām a stranger in Harleyās life, yet he welcomed me in with open paws and lots of ridiculous puppy love. He could have gone the other way with it, this I know for sure.
I once dog-sat a different dog who hated my guts, simply because I wasnāt his mom. I had to use oven mitts to do anything near the dog because it kept biting me. It was a torturous week from hell.
But Harley means well. Iām pretty sure all his begging for attention is just because he misses his mom. And I have to admit, I havenāt had someone this happy to see me inā¦.wellā¦.since I was a dog mom myself.
I AM a dog mom again and Iāll tell yaā¦in hindsight, Harley was a lot easier than Dezi was as a puppy. Turns out, Harley was just a warmup to another life of dog. š
If youāve got a hilarious or even a nightmarious dog-sitting story, DO TELL!
Speaking of nightmare dog-sitting gigs, this was my WORST one ever:
When the Pitbull That Kisses Your Face Unexpectedly Attacks
I have never really bought into the notion that all Pitbulls are vicious attack dogs. I firmly believe that any dog is a product of its ownerās handling and training. If you donāt believe this to be true about Pitbulls, just watch all 19 seasons of
My first foster dog, Poet, was the most challenging to date. He came to me as an unaltered, 3 year old found wandering the streets. I'm confident his previous family was tired of him peeing and pooping in the house and not abiding to the rules. Although, my guess is they did not establish any boundaries. Three years is a long time to live by your own creed then be cast into expectation. The good news was that every dog after him was easier!
I never babysat a human baby except my children let alone a labradoodle. Iām a purest š¤£ when it comes to my furry buddies. Newfs and black labs. God save a babysitter with Bear the newf (rip) food aggressive and insisted attention . Btw Alvin my English black lab wakes me every morning at 615. Iām up with a smile. Insane? Nah. An early start !