At the beginning of this week our family did the unspeakable – namely, we went on a vacation.
Granted it was only three days, but still…for our family that is a monumental achievement.
Only being gone for three days, we went particularly worried about many of the things we were leaving behind at home – except, of course, the pets.
I, the avid animal lover in the family, have amassed a small collection of show and brood rabbits. While my dad, the closet animal lover of the family, has bundled together an aquarium full of fresh-water fish.
To top it off, I had been petsitting a neighbor’s dog at our house for the past week – but the beastie was being dropped off in it’s rightful home on our way to the beach.
The problem with having beloved pets is finding a good petsitter. Going on very few vacations, I have never established a firm petsitter in my life.
(My last petsitter was scared off after trying to deal with about twenty frozen rabbit water bottles every morning.)
I called up my friend Kate and asked if she would be up for it. She readily agreed, not knowing the pets I keep.
She came over two days before I left, where I handed her my instructions, roughly the size of the yellow-pages, and walked her through every step of my pet-feeding process and every possible bad scenario that might happen if my fan broke.
At the end of the lecture, she asked me if I often had problems with the pets. I chuckled easily and told her I hardly ever had any issues. Told her to come by Monday night and closed the door in her face.
The time was Monday evening. After a full day of driving and beach-going, we had crashed back in our hotel room when my cell-phone began shaking itself vigoriously. The tell-tale sign of someone calling me. I eagerly answered to hear Kate’s voice over the phone,
“We have a slight problem,” she said.
Then proceeded to give me a heart attack.
“Two of your rabbits got loose today.”
Apparently she called her mom and sister who came and chased my two miscreant creatures across the yard and back into the shed, where they cornered them and stuffed them back into their cages in less than half an hour. I was impressed. And sorry for her.
She then informed me that the key to the house I had given her was a dud. Only then did I remember that the key she had was a particularly nusiance. I explained the jiggling method she most employ to get the door to open and wished her luck as I hung up.
Five minutes later my cell phone started to jiggle again. I answered the phone to hear Kate speak the words,
“There’s a dog on your bed and it won’t let us near it.”
Twenty years of my life were gone.
Apparently, the dog I petsat loved me so much she decided to run away from her home and hide in our bushes until the door opened and she could make a run for my bed and safety. However, Kate handled the incident with ease, I gave her the number of the owner and she returned the dog to safety.
There were no more calls after that. For the well-being of my heart I’m glad of this.
Upon arriving back yesterday, I armed myself with delicious fudge from the beach, an apology note, and her payment, and marched myself down to Kate’s house where I expected to meet a scratched-up, over-tired friend glaring at me.
Thankfully, I know better people than that. Kate smiled, welcomed me in, gratefully accepted the fudge (who wouldn’t?) and told me the whole story with dramatic and hilarious details. I love my friends. I love my pets.
I can’t say I enjoy the combination though.
