My first pet sitting job fell in my lap when my neighbors Chuck and Betty came looking for dog care. They owned a zesty Shih Tzu named Dusty and didn’t mind paying someone to give her personal attention and several walks a day when they were out of town.
While they were away, their home’s AC broke down, so I installed a giant oscillating fan in the living room to survive the sweltering afternoons. On an impulse, I scooped Dusty up and stood in front of the fan, swaying gently. I wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy the direct breeze, but she didn’t squirm.
I set her down after a bit, but half an hour later she was back, standing at my feet, looking up hopefully. I repeated our cooling off routine, and from then on, she let me know whenever she needed a repeat of our refreshing drill.
Holding Dusty in my arms, relishing the satisfaction of providing her with exactly what I knew she wanted, at the exact moment she asked, was my first taste of the profound joy that can fill your heart when you live and bond with someone else’s dog. I’d shared many such moments with my own dogs over the years, but I hadn’t expected that thrilling flash of interspecies communication while I served as the temporary help.
I was hooked.
That was 17 years ago, but after all that time as a professional dog sitter, my clients and canine charges still fascinate me. From a Chihuahua whose mom wanted him walked in a baby stroller to a Labrador whose tracheotomy needed daily tending to a kennel full of 120-pound Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs, I continue to be energized by each new adventure.
My lap has cradled the heads of two old dogs as they drew their last breaths, and I was once thanked for saving a dog’s life. I’m guessing several hundred dogs have received my care, not to mention the occasional cat, rabbit, bird, giant tortoise, bearded dragon and koi. I may be past retirement age, but this isn’t work I’m abandoning anytime soon. ...
Anne Rodgers is a retired journalist who lives in Florida.