A Little Bubbly

     It was May and the in-laws were coming for commencement. I had scheduled a family portrait for the afternoon before the ceremony.  We met the photographer at a local waterfront park and spent a couple of hours adjusting our posture, widening our smiles, smoothing out wrinkles and celebrating
the achievement of our high school graduate.
      In the getting to know the family chit chat in which all professional portrait photographers are
experts, I mentioned my pet sitting business. Who knew she would return the favor and hire me
before summer's end? As is my usual practice, an interview and tour of the home were scheduled
prior to the hire date. I met the photographer with baby in arms at the front door. Barking greeted
me through the patio screen door.
      A few minutes later, I was holding a very startled baby and she was trying to get the young dog's attention. Assuring her that I didn't mind the pup investigating me, she relaxed enough to apologize for his unruly behavior. In my opinion, he was not unruly. He was one hundred percent shepherd and his willingness to accept me as a nonthreat was crucial to my being hired. I won't ever take a job when the dog is on the defensive. If I can't trust the animal in the presence of the client, there's no chance for me to successfully care for it on my own.
     Conversation between us was dotted with baby talk. The interview went as smoothly as one could expect with the constant babble of the child and the repositioning of my hands and feet by the dog as he squeezed himself between his mistress and me.
      The breed is family-centric. Any outsider has to earn his trust. It didn't take too long for that trust to break the tension. An experienced pet sitter has a few tricks. Mine included treats in my pockets and lavender body spray. I always wore freshly washed scrubs when meeting new animals. Once
a bond developed, the smell of another animal was no longer a concern. Thank goodness! Sometimes I had several clients in a day. Truthfully, my pet scented clothes became an unorthodox calling card.
     This young dog was almost too big for his house. The floor plan was without much variation as far as townhomes go. I've worked for many a family who lives squeezed into tight quarters. There are tradeoffs of course when square footage is claimed by all the occupants. In this household,  the people and dog spilled out on to the back lawn and shared the abundance of sunshine and the sweet fragrance of a summer garden.
     A fifteen-month-old youngster needs inside toys and outside fun. The shepherd didn't understand territorial playthings. He was happily chewing on forbidden fringe haired dolls and Duplo building blocks and taking them to bury in a raised flower bed. The exception to a shared experience between child and dog was blowing bubbles. That game was reserved for the dog.
      On the few days of my job there, I was asked not to walk the dog. Bicycles were required as well as a six-mile route and the client felt that either I was unqualified or their homeowner's insurance would not favor a claim if one or both of us incurred an injury. So fun time was restricted to the back yard between the patio furniture and a treehouse without a tree.
      The single dip of the wand into the bottle was the silent signal for my companion to wait. Steady in a sitting posture, he would wait for the release of the glistening spheres. Some would burst, others would escape and rise into the warmth of an afternoon.  He jumped and tumbled with jaws snapping
at the floating balls. The wet surprises formed a trail of soapy foam from his mouth and he would
break from the game to dry his whiskers in the lawn.
     If the bottle tipped over and suds began to soak into his top layer of hair, it was time to
bring out the hose and give him a bath. That would lead to a game of tag and another of hide and seek as the very wet dog ran from room to room in an effort to air dry. Any attempt to capture and dry him
was fruitless, so I reserved the towel to wipe down the furniture and small puddles - now plentiful and dangerously spaced on the tile floor.
      That dog was visibly excited by bubbles. I don't know if he had any concept as to their
temporary enchantment. He just knew that chasing them was a connection to surprise and delight. It was the time when he was the focal point of attention.
     I'm guessing as the child grew up, the game became a time of bonding. What a lovely gift to give the family dog. In this family, there was no prejudice, no exclusion, no rules that separated child from
her best friend. I understand why dogs understand people. They're one of us.