Persons employed in the home pet care industry are, for the most part, good natured, flexible and
conscientious. We bring with us a variety of experiences and when among like minded professionals,
share and exchange bits of advice.
In all my years, I met only one other pet sitter. Our meeting was strange, in a sense, because MY client was HER neighbor. We'd pass each other several times in traffic and waive. She drove a van with painted advertisement on the doors. I drove a personal car with no exterior advertisement, but my animal themed scrubs were a dead giveaway that I was either a veterinary tech, groomer or pet sitter. Our town was rather close knit. Someone whom you knew, knew someone else and eventually
being recognized became the norm. Not that we all lived in a Mr. Roger's neighborhood, but word of mouth was the best publicity gimmick possible. In all my years, I never spent money on advertising and I topped my career with a clientele of more than sixty customers.
I stopped by on a whim one day as I was caring for that particular neighbor's pet. Her home doubled as a dog training center. The living room had been converted into a gymnasium that one might expect to see in an equestrian training facility, except miniaturized. She eagerly showed off one of her own going through the paces. We exchanged hugs and business cards. I tucked her cards into my briefcase (overflowing with my own files for the day) and headed to another part of the city.
Truthfully, in the early years, when establishing my business, I would travel cross county and sometimes cover a couple of hundred miles in a day. Especially at holiday time, my calendar runneth over and fifteen hour days were the norm.
But that's another story...
This story is about uninvited house guests.
Max was a solid black Shih Tzu who lived in a three bedroom house in a cul de sac of a wandering neighborhood. There was no sense of a grid system as far as streets. If you didn't have GPS (and I didn't), you might have to navigate by types of trees or number of driveways. I wouldn't give two stars to the committee who planned that community! His house was so new, that the paint was barely dry to indicate the house number on the curb. Forget reading mailboxes, the community had a community mail box, a community pool, a community park...well you know what I'm saying. There was so much new construction, the traffic flow was squeezed between the concrete mixers, flat beds and school busses.
Max was weary. Weary of new people, weary of his leash and weary of his own shadow. Totally un-Shih Tzu like. Reading his body language was difficult because his ears lay back 24/7. Thankfully, I had the experience to know that a bath towel carefully laid over him from the tail to the head would calm him enough that I could pick him up. Trust is EVERYTHING in this business. If you loose that, you might as well hand in your resignation.
Walks became less scary. His fenced backyard was often the playground of feral rabbits. Max soon realized that his life was more than cowering in a corner and waiting for his people.
Part of my business ethics was minimum housekeeping. I liked order and preferred to leave a client's
home welcoming. I didn't mind an occasional sink of dishes or unattended trash can. Those were easy fixes. If my job was long term, I would launder overflowing hampers and vacuum and dust.
These eccentricities always assured a generous gratuity. I must explain that my several daily visits were not just run in and run out. I would stay as long as my schedule allowed- usually an hour.
Max began to greet me at the door; ears still back, but tail tip swayed. He learned to associate my visits with meal times and walks. He knew that I would let him in his yard to chase bunnies and that he wouldn't be left in the dark at night. All was running smoothly well into the second week until...
I opened the silverware drawer to get the can opener and was met with dozens of fire ants! Where
did they come from? They weren't there yesterday! I couldn't move fast enough. My first concern was Max. I grabbed him and put him in the bathroom behind closed doors. I rushed into the kitchen and searched the cabinets for ant spray. I rushed into the garage and searched the shelves for ant spray.
Not to be found. I grabbed paper towels, wrung them out and wiped the ants off the counter top.
Luckily I had found some rubber gloves and pulling them on over my several oozing blisters,
kept wiping the ants into oblivion.
Max was scratching at the bathroom door, but I felt his imprisonment would be the least of my immediate concerns.
I found the entry point to the parade of unwelcome house guests. Found a tube of caulking and
filled the crevice. The parade stopped.
I emptied the drawer of silverware into the dishwasher and started it. I emptied the cabinets below the drawer of all the contents and checked high and low for additional evidence. Nothing found.
So I washed everything washable that I had removed and left on the counter to dry.
I took off the gloves and counted the welts..maybe five or six. Taking my hand into the same bathroom that Max was in, I looked for the first aid kit. Nope. Not there. My hand was throbbing.
I called the client. She was very apologetic, told me where to find the peroxide, ointment and bandages. Who knew- they were in the guest room bed side table!
My hand, looking like a part of a bad halloween mummy costume, was burning hot and unusable.
I had to pick up a frightened Max one handed and carry him outside. Sorry, Max, no walk today!
We got through the excitement. I went home, had my hand attended to and went back to tuck Max in.
The next morning, I received a text message that the pest control technician would be there, could I meet him? OF COURSE!
So Max and I sat on the couch and watched the technician de-ant the kitchen. Going into the garage, he applied the poison to the other half of the entry point. He checked the other rooms and gave an all clear. Asking me if I was from the area, he said "Yeah, with all this new construction, the ants gotta go somewhere!"
If I could have licked my paw, I would have. But I was Max's protector and I felt he realized that
everything would be okay. He kinda winked at me which made his ears straighten up- which was a very good sign.
No comments:
Post a Comment