Stargazing

One of the benefits of my profession is the endless adventures I have when accompanied by someone else’s pet. It’s a kind of follow the leader mentality and I’m not always in the position of the leader…

Charlie, a middle aged Golden Retriever and Sammie, his sister, who was pure bred Westie, were house mates.  Charlie was the original resident and Max, had been left behind by a longtime boyfriend; quite a pairing, but perfect for this family.  The Colonel and her son resided in  this sprawling “countryish” bedroom community 10 miles west of my house. 

This was a work in progress and the original plans for the community must be close to 100 acres. Every time I had a job out there, I would pass new construction.  The dump trucks and mobile cantinas dotted streets in a haphazard pattern. New brick homes would sprout up between the chicken coops and falling down trailers.  Little well groomed flower and vegetable gardens bordered even smaller 1 bedroom cottages.  And well, the wild life just carried on amidst the school busses and cars, skateboarders, bicyclists and mail trucks.

Dogs without their people chased the cats in the same category.  Driving directions were more visual than written down, because the numbers on the mailboxes occasionally fell off if the box had been hand made.  The newer houses, of course, were well lighted and the paved streets to which they belonged never left me guessing.

My family lived on a short street; maybe a dozen homes, all brick with fences. This grouping was popular with most of the builders out there.  You’d cross several dirt roads and then come across a short paved section with a new floor plan for sale.

The end houses shared property lines with forest like a quilt without proper binding. Their house was at the beginning with a 45 degree driveway up to the physical building.

Charlie and Max were to be walked after meals.  It was without exception.  Their owner, a career Air Force nurse was all about fresh air.  Tony, her son, was quite the soccer player and both of them loved the out of doors.  Leashes were always in a tall cylindrical basket at the front door.  Charlie always had his leash in his mouth and sat rather impatiently while I lassoed Max for our twice or more daily outings.

Being that Sammie was a breed so close to the ground, the pace of our walks fell short of brisk and suited my abilities.  My reasons for enjoying walks had nothing to do with health benefits, I always had reason to admire the plantings, seasonal décor and if the windows had been left un-curtained, I would gaze at life on the inside. Got quite a few decorating tips this way!

Each time we left the house, Charlie would lead to a favorite patch of curb and then it was at my discretion which direction to go.  Max just stayed within the shadow of her brother and was content at whatever he wanted to investigate. Didn’t matter the weather and on those very wet days, we knew that towels were readied in the laundry room for paws and ears when we got home. 

Months passed, seems a whole summer in fact, and the two to three mile circumference of our journey remained unchanged. Nothing new, no potholes, no unexpected construction nails in the road.  We knew the barks behind all the neighboring fences and took for granted that we would forever continue our favorite times of day.

Evenings in this “countryish” scene lent magical moments to the routine.  Nature’s calling was a welcomed respite to busy days. As I was not a sleep over guest with this client, our final walk was taken as late as possible sometimes after the ten o’clock hour.  Perfectly safe and I was nothing if not prepared with cell phone and flashlight in pockets and bright neon striped safety vest.

That night’s pre bedtime airing was going to be especially wonderful because the heaven’s natural lights were seasonally bright. Mars was out and the Big Dipper was in the eastern hemisphere.  Street lights were in competition so we headed west and north to the nearest dirt road for our gazing pleasure.

Do dogs stargaze?  I think so, because I sat down between my two friends and gave them a basic astronomy lesson.  I said “Look, Charlie, can you see that one? Sammie, come here, let me hold you and point out that grouping which looks just like you!” Pretty soon, we all got fidgety and I got up and announced that it was time to go, but Charlie wouldn’t budge. Max was already at the end of her leash and looked behind her to look at him and I was looking behind him and there she was…

About 400 pounds of black bear, just watching us watch her.  Now what?  Stay calm, look for cover or people or get the heck out of there. “Charlie, HEEL”! With flashlight and very audible commands from me, we moved and started to gain distance from her and my line of vision changed from behind me to the welcomed view of people with flashlights coming to our rescue.

The next door neighbor, who was self -appointed neighborhood watchman, had seen us head out (just all the nights before) but our usual return time was apparently delayed and he had placed calls for a search party.  Wonderful!!

He was telling me, to keep leashes taught and quicken my pace, but not run…repeat…do not run. Go straight home, he would see me in a few.

OMG, I was thinking how to carry Sammie and keep Charlie calm.  Surely the irresistible scent of the bear would keep him not wanting to leave.  Well, we managed, I don’t remember the last several yards to the house, but we walked right in, locked the door and watched as neighbors gathered in the street to discuss strategies.  Within 15 minutes or so, and after I had called the owner to recount the encounter, neighbor came over ready to give me verbal “CPR”. I was fine. He told me what my client should have told me, but perhaps considering the color of my hair, didn’t find it had been necessary to give a lecture on bear safety. I was thankful for the tips and had a list of anti-bear equipment to buy before returning the next day.

In that list was bear repellant (for me), and small rattles (or a wind chime would do).

Sometimes, lessons are learned the hard way. Gray hair is no great indicator that I have retained all the life lessons I once knew. This one is gonna stay with me though. When in nature, expect wonder and be grateful that she teaches the bear to share her star filled canopy with the pet sitter and friends.

Oh No...I Didn't

I was overjoyed to be hired by old clients recently.  Their preferred sitter happened to be my daughter and she had packed her life and headed to the university.  Sometimes it happened that way.  She came home for the summer and traditional holiday breaks and always had a waiting list of jobs.  This time the job was mine as it was, originally, in the very beginning. 

My charge, Phoenix, a black and white spaniel, around 4 years, was a joy. She was a very high energy girl, with inside manners and outside mayhem.  She loved people, frogs, butterflies, dead frogs (to roll upon), and flashlight beams after dark.

She always ate well and kept her companion cat, Jezabelle, one level up from the floor.  Occasionally vexed at her dog, the cat would ambush from under the kitchen tablecloth and Phoenix would scold and retreat.

As I have gotten older, daily walks with some of the younger crowd have been replaced with other less vigorous activities.  Since we had a huge, fenced back yard to play in, I didn’t feel that her normal 2 mile jaunt would be missed.  The yard is beautifully appointed with plantings, porch swings, gazing balls, pool (with hot tub), and raised vegetable gardens.

The gardens line the fence and each is lovingly planted with seasonal

veggies, herbs and peppers.  There is also a solitary citrus tree which bears green and then yellow fruit.  I am unfamiliar and decided not to sample it.

To access the back yard from inside, we pass through their Florida room;

a screened furnished outdoor room, which transforms to an inside room if you secure all the windows. The inside plants (orchids and other sweet fragranced beauties) are organized on shelving near the north wall where the morning sun welcomes them. The doggie door is on the east wall, right next to the people door. 

Every morning, one of my duties is to clean the pool. I use the net to remove drowned frogs and miscellaneous debris from it. So, as Phoenix scooted through her door, I accompanied her through my door and we went to explore the freshly watered lawn. While she ran laps and figure eights (so as not to miss anything), I attended to my chore.  Only one frog and it wasn’t quite waterlogged and hopped from the net to the safety of the grass.

Time for Frisbee!  We were focused on the course.  I aimed for the back fence and heard a click.  Hum, never heard that before, so we continued.

Phoenix heard something and high tailed it inside and then whined for me to open the sliding glass door.  We have to keep it closed because the cat is not supposed to come outside.

I grabbed the handle and opened, well tried to open, well couldn’t open the door BECAUSE IT WAS LOCKED.  She whined for me to come in (again).  I couldn’t and called to her to rejoin me on the outside side of the door.

Apparently, this has happened to somebody else, because she scooted to the gate and sat and waited. But, I saw her owner deadbolt it (with a wooden slat) from the street side when I came to visit just 2 days earlier.

Funny how life experience kicks in during times of stress.  I considered crawling atop the parked car (classic Mercedes) which was locked and hidden from view in the make shift carport on MY side of the fence.  If I could crawl on the hood, maybe I could scale the 6 foot fence and land in the mulched flower bed on the other side. Then I could regain entry through the keypad at the garage door. Well, no I decided.  That maneuver could land me in the E. R.

Maybe I could find a ladder and hoist it and open it to climb up, shift and climb back down.  No ladder…

I could fit through the doggie door. I got on my knees and tried. Got my head and one shoulder through…backed out…got my head and other shoulder through.  Stretched out as low to the ground as possible and was met with failure.  Couldn’t raise my arm far enough to reach the handle because it was on the far side of the door.  This had nothing to do with the fact that I had almost double jointed my elbow in an effort to do just that.

Maybe I could call husband to come.  Oh, yeah, we’re car sharing and I have the car.  As a matter of fact, I can see it through the fence and I can see someone walking by.  I yelled.  You know that gray haired kind of a yell which tells strangers that you’re an idiot and have locked yourself out.

Well I am thankful for divine intervention in the person of the kind gray haired lady who came with smile and understanding eyes to help me in my predicament. She gained access through the garage and met me laughing with a new spaniel best friend and opened the people door to let me in.  I thanked her, offered her money and a glass of water and she said she was almost home and now had something to tell her husband about her morning stroll.  I bet!

Now I know why I ask clients to hide spare keys on property.  But knowing me and my recent failed attempt, the key would be somewhere on THE OTHER SIDE of the house…

In My Arms

     As I alluded to in the forward to this book, heartache can be an eventuality in this profession.

     This past weekend, my heart was broken, quite unexpectedly in fact.  Nothing prepares me for the shock of old age and in companions, that finality comes before we’re ready.  I mean, we know someday, but still, we’re robbed of promised future days with them at our side and at our beckoning.

     I parked in the drive and pressed the garage door opener.  It’s a short driveway and the barks on the inside were meant for anyone who dared approach.  You see, they know the sound of the family cars.  I wasn’t driving a family car and knew that I would have to squeeze in and undergo the inspection.  It happened every time I stopped in.

     This client’s dogs were long-legged and very short legged…an eclectic grouping of Greyhounds, Chihuahua and Fox Terrier. As I have an equally odd mixture of companions, I completely understood. I believe that personality is the trait which clinches the deal when choosing a family pet. Anyway, that’s my life’s experience.

     Moments after being released from the corner in the hall, we headed to the back yard for outside time.  And then, I saw Keeper, sprawled on the floor in a pool of urine. I ran to scoop her up and carried her, pee dripping from my sleeve and set her upright in the yard.  She walked a few steps, slipped, fell and then I scooped her up again and sat her in the grass. She rocked herself to a standing position and headed to a favorite spot to investigate.

     Not trying to panic, but needing to dial the phone, I called the owner. “Keeper had a bad night”, I said.  “I found her soaked on the floor right next to her bed. Where’s your doggie shampoo? Do you have bath towels?” I hung up and with her in my arms with the three in tow, headed to the bathroom for shampoo and then to garage to get towels.

She had a lovely warm bath and was not too anxious to get out of the tub.  Didn’t take her long to dry off and I put her down and she walked to her bed in the master bedroom.  She settled in a bit and I went in the main room to turn on the t v.  Not long after, she came into the main room to join us and traded her bedroom spot for the small bed next to the fireplace.

     She sat mostly as if she couldn’t decide on what to do next. Having breathed a sigh of relief, I plopped into the easy chair for a breather.  Almost at that exact moment, she started to seize. I ran to her and fell to the floor and located my phone to place another distress call.  “No, she has not had any grand mal seizures” was the reply. “Well, she’s having one now and please stay on the phone while I try to calm her”. The seizure lasted 3 minutes. It was awful. It was messy.  They were two hours from home. 

     I know seizures. They weaken and usually contribute to shortened lifespans.

I knew this one was probably not the first.  I knew that she probably had one after I left the previous night.

     I rousted everyone out hourly in hopes that she would snap out of it.  She was mentally there but the sadness in her eyes told a different story. I left the comfort of the easy chair and laid on the floor next to her and pet and sang all the lullabies I could remember.

     Tick, tock…minutes passed and they weren’t coming.  They were close, but not close enough to rescue us from this awfulness.

     Keeper and I were outside and the remaining three were in when the garage door opened and voices were busy greeting barks.  I walked inside with her in my arms and kissed Mrs. and handed Keeper to her.  She said “She’s Dave’s dog” and passed her to him.  The grandparents were busy in a group hug and I said, “I need to go and I’m sorry”.

     I got in my car and sat and cried.  I got home and cried.  I went to bed and hoped that she would pass away.

     She didn’t. I got a text message the following morning which read “She had seizures all night we took into the vet and had her put to sleep. We couldn’t let her suffer.  We miss her.”

     Later that day, I received another message: “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for staying with her”.  I replied “You’re entirely welcome” Thank you for loving her through this. I love you.”

     If it’s not time for me to retire, I’ll be surprised at my decision to continue. I will have to say goodbye again and I know that next time, I will want to hold them in my arms.