Cat owners are a trusting group. They TRUST their companions will survive a people-less home with extra food and maybe a back up litter box for those sequestered to the indoors. It is only when the people must be away for weeks, that the need arises for an extra person to supervise the independent feline.
The duo I met at the interview were female, Ms. Annie- a tabby, obesely uncomfortable and the other, Penelope (Peeps, for short) -a kittenish Swiffer tailed, domestic long hair. They shared their house with two adults in a brand new, alarmed custom build. The neighborhood was clean and orderly where dogs walked their people in the same direction at the same time daily.
This job should be very uncomplicated.
Instructions for cat maintenance did not include any surprises. Veterinarian and trusted neighbor
contact info was scrawled in the bottom margin of the typed sheet of paper. A quick tour of the two story didn't take very long. Housekeeping was immaculate and furnishings high end. You know, the kind of couches where you slide off if not tucked in... The centerpiece of the great room was the great television. It was their version of a sports arena scoreboard and oh, the myriad remotes.
I was invited to help myself to the wine bar and any snacks. The dish washer was computerized, but I could hand wash the dishes.
Concluding the "meet and purr" was the review of the security system. A keypad, remote and voice activated key fob were offered. I could select what method of entry I wanted. I asked if I could just have the remote to the garage and an interior key. Funny, that WASN'T an option.
I chose keypad. Oh, and the security code word was *****.
Well, first time for everything. I practiced and to the delight of the owner, aced the course. Feeling
full of my self, I left and would return the next morning.
Day number one, rolled effortlessly into consecutive days of a two week job. Cats had me on ignore for the entire first week. It was only after I helped myself to some tuna fish, that my presence disrupted their routine. For the remaining week, they would descend the staircase in hopes of
another tidbit.
I am blaming the following depiction on an impromptu nap on the longest of those slip and slide Italian leather couches. The sun cascading through the full wall of windows lent to an invitation I just couldn't resist. . .
Waking some SEVERAL minutes past my intended departure, I sat down to journal the time spent with Peeps and Ms. Annie- "uneventful and restful. Thank you for allowing me the flexibility to enjoy your lovely home" or something like that. My daily reports are what set me apart from my competition. I was licensed, insured and detail oriented. My notes may save a life in the future-but that's another story.
"Click, click, click, arm" and I opened the door expecting the beep confirmation. Nothing.
Ok. "Click, click, click, "disarm", set". Nothing. AND THEN mechanical screams emanated from the bowels of the house. The volume shattered me and suddenly their was cat hair everywhere.
Phone rang "Code, what code, who is this? This is the pet sitter. No the owners are in HAWAII!
"******" came from the recesses of my semi conscious mind, "******", I repeated, is the code.
"Thank you, we'll reset the alarm. Have a nice day".
Oh, the embarrassment of it all! I really didn't want to reopen the door. I needed to find the cats. I found one-fat Annie had managed to slither over the side of the jetted tub in the master bedroom, three flights up. I let her chill. Peeps had vanished into a private hiding space that only the family cat knows. She'd come out in a day or two. Meanwhile, there was a small crowd gathering out front; people frantically dialing their cell phones and then...
My "nice day" was ushered in by two police cars and armed officers standing on the driveway. Between us and a long distance phone call, the "incident" as it was known, settled into history and upon the return visit, I found the instructions to the Roomba and put my feet up, grabbed a glass of Riesling and coaxed the cats from under the furniture.
Funny, I was asked for my business card by the president of the HOA on a subsequent visit. He winked and said "and I do NOT have a security system."
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