Pet sitting for the first
time since 1999, when I sold my business. The route and details remain the
same, except I’m not leaving cute little notes about what my charges are doing
during my visit.
The friend whose dogs I’m
pet sitting is into container gardening, which just happens to be labor
intensive, so I play with the dogs between areas to be watered.
The big black female has a
skin condition of some sort, perhaps Demodectic Mange, since her little Chihuahua
buddy has no sign of the problem. She wags her tail so hard it bends her body
in half, but I find it uncomfortable to pet her in case it’s something I could
bring home to my dogs. We have enough problems.
Small yellow boy stands for
as much petting as I’m willing proffer, after which, he’s quite content to go
piss on my tires.
I find a piece of plastic about
the size of a hair comb, that I start scratching the big girl with, so tries to
press closer to me. Shortly we get it straightened out that she must stand away
from me to get the scratching with the plastic. Her eyes roll back in her head.
She is an itchy girl.
The house is locked. I have
no access to the bathroom, or her router to re-enter the required security
code, so it’s time to add some food to the fresh water in their hut and say
goodbye for today.
