Dog Sitting

When asking others to check on your dogs while you're away - it is generally a good idea to Leave. Them. A. Key. No - in this instance, I am not the one who neglected to leave the key. Undeterred by what I've done to Molly's manners, my neighbors asked me to check on their brand new puppy a couple of times on Sunday. And while said neighbors left detailed instructions on timing, and portion control and kongs and whatnot....they skipped a certain salient fact....like how the $%#@&$ do I get in?

Thinking that a key awaits me under the welcome mat, I sauntered up to the house in time to begin a forty-five minute scavenger hunt for button, button, who has the $%#&@ button key. I don't think you can appreciate just how much cussing I am capable of when I am tipping over plants, looking under grill covers and crawling under porches, all while half-suspecting that I'm getting punk'd. Molly, who was with me at the start of this escapade, is strutting around the yard taking bathroom breaks in plain sight of one of the imprisoned dogs' view through the window - just to rub it in a little.

I called a mutual friend whose seemingly sensible advice was to "just break in". But did she forget what burglar she was talking to? I would have been the Watergate burglar that got everyone caught. Besides, my idea of breaking-in involves a brick through the window, not sly little lock jimmying. Which is when I got creative. If you call every dog sitter in town - you will EVENTUALLY find one that has worked for your neighbors....and is willing to give their key copy to a perfect stranger... if yet another mutual friend...will vouch for you. It takes a village alright. By the time this little escapade was [finally] over, half the town had a vested interest in little Quincy's potty break. I'm thinking the neighbors bring their cell phones on their next bike ride.

But think of the all dog-sitting chits I collected in a single day...