Clever Girl

The Colonel’s wife got my name from her local vet’s office.  “Could I come for an interview”?  They planned to leave in a week’s time and needed a caregiver for their companion, “Cinnamon”.

Cinnamon was an older red Labrador, who had spent her younger, active years retrieving.  She was energetic, although the creeping arthritis was evident.  She had multiple collars on, but more about that later.

Their home was under construction and their temporary address was right on the Gulf; an enviable location. Floor to ceiling windows formed the wall between the great room and sun porch.  The exterior room opened to a patio and a short walk down to the shore. No fence…

Most of their personal belongings were in storage and she was anxious to “feel at home” in the latest of what I’m sure was a long list of former addresses.

The interview was lengthy; equal time given to each party.  Her husband was stuck in traffic, so we settled in on the pair of leather couches and chatted.  “Cinnamon is a VERY intelligent dog. She birds, although she is reluctant to release! She responds to voice commands and has a dietary and potty routine which she follows without exception. Be mindful on your walks; she is strong and will pull you.”

During the process, Cinnamon wedged herself between her mistress and me for a sniff and a thorough inspection.  Not paying close attention, but rather focusing on her owner’s instructions, I found my hand stroking her head and neck.  “Great start, we’re bonding” I mused to myself.  Our “connection” did not go unnoticed and my newest client was happy and visibly less stressed about this whole “in-home pet sitting” business.

Now before I continue, you should know that I group my clients according to personalities and their life experiences as pet owners.  Some are novices and need all the help they can get.  Others are oblivious to the differences between people and animals and treat their pet as a person.  The remaining group falls somewhere in between, recognizing the needs of their animal companions but consider them like family members with all the privileges of “peopledom”.  The latter was the case here.

I strive to give each pet several opportunities for fresh air daily.  I know they need exercise and human contact, so I schedule visits 3 to 4 times somewhere between sunrise and the late show.  My routine with Cinnamon included walks, sometimes twice a day.  We always returned breathless-her from pulling me and me from running behind!  The two of us, Cinn and I, became companions and she entertained me with her repertoire of “tricks” in exchange for a tasty, healthy treat.  Her favorite snacks were baby carrots.  Of course, they were always served chilled.  Sometimes, in the evening, while she was “taking care of business”, I would sit quietly and watch the pod of dolphins, solitary cranes and ad occasional silent barge share the horizon with me.

I digress to include one more detail about the house.  It had an “invisible fence”.  Now I understood the necessity of multiple collars:  The shock collar kept her within the perimeter of her back yard.  I was assured that she could not wander and leaving her out was discretionary.

I was kept steadily employed at this address and on one of my visits, I was introduced to a pair of “doggie doors”; newly installed and now a part of Cinnamon’s routine.  They were fitted with sliding panels which were snug and immovable when used to close the passways.  The panels were to be used at night and during bad weather.  Otherwise, she could enjoy unlimited access to her back yard. Obviously, the neighbors did not mind an occasional bark, as they owned three little terrors which could out bark Cinnamon and they often did!

Our first trial run with the new doors was a no brainer.  No problem.  Out she went through 2 flaps and in she returned on voice command.  I thought “she’s perfectly safe as long as her shock collar is on.”

Rain and more rain followed during the long weekend.  I decided to lock her in after lunch.  I’ll be back for dinner - no problem.  Upon my dinner visit, I parked in my usual spot at the start of a long curved driveway.  The landscape had been carefully planned and the house remained obscured behind the plantings and pathways of the lengthy, narrow front lawn.  My car headlights were met with a pair of eyes attached to a barking wet dog about 50 feet ahead of me within the constraints of the side yard (the nearest border of the invisible fence).  “No way, I LOCKED her in”…

I did not enter the house but rather ran to the side yard and there she was pleased with herself and soaked.  Her shock collar was on, so I ran inside to let her in through the back door.  I toweled her off and turned to inspect the pair of “faulty” doggie doors and found them closed.  I mean to say the panels were in place with no daylight streaming underneath.  Something felt terribly wrong; you know that gut-wrenching feeling?  Nothing in the house was disturbed and I investigated behind every door; including the garage.  Maybe the neighbor came in for a minute…

I called the Colonel’s wife to report the mishap and apologize.  She assured me it was okay, she would return the next day.  Bedtime approached.  “Goodnight, Cinnamon, STAY”.  I blocked the doggie doors, put the baby gate across the kitchen and left and prayed.

She was still inside when breakfast time arrived.  I was sleep-deprived and earlier than usual.  Relieved, we enjoyed our last together and forgot the mystery of the previous day.  My cell phone alerted me to the owner’s return and I called to say I’d be right there to return her key.

“Let’s see what happened,” she said, smiling.  Cinn went out both doors and we locked her out and waited. “Cinnamon” she called (in a loud voice). Turning to obey, she approached the first doggie door and lowered her nose and found the bottom edge of the hard plastic sliding panel. With determination and a strong neck, she raised the panel to a sufficient height for her head to pass through.  Her body followed, accentuated by her wagging tail. She repeated her new trick and was in the kitchen.  Clever girl.  The Colonel’s wife just smiled at me.

It was brought to my attention that there was a button attached to a spring that worked the “locking” mechanism. Who knew?  Let me repeat “CLEVER GIRL”!