I'm house-sitting this week, taking care of my friends' two dogs, beta fish, and hamster. (Oh yeah! That reminds me... I've gotta feed the hamster!) Last time I house-sat for them, I nearly killed the fish. I had to actually contact them on vacation to tell them he might not make it. Stress. Full.
This time around, the fish has been fine. You can be sure I keep a close eye on him though. Hamster? No worries there.
The dogs, however, are unbelievably high-maintenance. And this week has been no exception.
When they go outside to... you know... do their thing, one of them likes to mill about forever. I call and call and call, but she won't come back inside.
Until I give up and go back to whatever it was I'd been doing. That's always the moment she decides to scratch at the door, wanting to be let in.
But I can bribe the dogs with cheese.
It's the fastest way to get them to come running. When I have no more patience for the outdoor wandering, I shout "Want some cheese?" and---BAM!---there she is.
The other dog is a hypochondriac. Or that's what I'd be thinking by now if she were human and not canine. She is at the vet multiple times a month for all sorts of strange ailments. Who knew a dog could have tonsillitis!
A few hours after they left for vacation, my friend called to say she was concerned the dog may also have a bladder infection.
She asked me to get a urine sample to bring to the vet.
Say what?! Payback for nearly killing their fish, perhaps...
It felt like a very low moment when I was outside, tupperware container in hand, trying to get the dog to pee.
Then a couple days ago, both dogs escaped from the backyard and took off running down the street.
I ran after them only to discover that they run much faster than I thought they could. I ran back to the house, grabbed my keys and some supplies from the kitchen, and hopped in the car.
I drove up and down the streets in the neighborhood, windows down, calling their names.
So I reached for the supplies I brought.
As I looked around to make sure no one was watching, I held a Kraft Single out the window and started shouting "Cheese!"
And I discovered things could get lower than urine-sample-collecting.
The cheese slice was melty and gross by the time I found the dogs. But they came running for it anyway.
All I know is:
I'm gonna need a vacation after this!