Happy Memorial Day weekend! Or, as I like to call it, Happy Can’t Get A Decent Price On A Plane Ticket So Instead Of A Naked Weekend With Your Husband You’ll Be Stuck At Home Taking Care Of Someone Else’s Dog weekend!
Oh, like YOU don’t call it that, too.
I really LIKE dogs, you know. And I especially like other people’s dogs because I can GIVE THEM BACK after a while. You may recall that I had a very exciting dogsitting adventure a couple of years ago, from which I have only recently recovered. But I’ve kept this particular (smallish) dog for my friends before, and so when they asked me if I could PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take her at the last minute, I said “Are you kidding me? I’m trying to sell my house! There are people here all the time!” Um, well, I said that at FIRST, but then I realized holiday weekend = no showings, and they were desperate, so I took the dog.
I went and picked her up on Saturday while my house was being shown. I never really know what I’ll be returning to, these days, after there’s been a house showing, you know. In this case, I arrived home to discover that either a small child had used the downstairs bathroom or the people who looked at the house just felt the need to yank on the toilet paper roll and then shred the bottom square for no particular reason. Also the hand soap had traveled halfway across the counter and the towels were all askew.
[Digression: Who walks into someone else’s house and uses their bathroom and leaves it in a state of disarray? WHO?? I mean, okay, if you bring your children along and Junior’s GOTTA GO RIGHT NOW, fine, use my bathroom. I don’t care. But at least PRETEND you give a damn and set the place back to rights. Sheesh. I’m just saying that MAYBE the person whose bathroom you’re messing up has had over 20 showings and is nearing the breaking point, and the carnage done to the toilet paper may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. If you can live with that, then by all means keep on keepin’ on.]
Anyway, the dog was VERY INTERESTED in the trailing toilet paper, but other than that was a model guest for the day. It was nice to have her here to keep me company. She’s very cuddly and playful and I made sure to let the kids know they’d been replace when I talked to them on the phone that night. (“Do you miss me?” “Nope, I’ve got the dog here, you know. She’s sleeping in your bed.”)
Today was a different story, though. I was out most of the day. First I was off at church and then out to lunch and getting groceries, then I was only home for a little while before I headed out to a friend’s barbecue. By the time I got home late tonight, the dog was feeling neglected.
I took her out and gave her a treat and played with her. I even brought her up to my room with an armful of toys so that she could hang out with me while Otto and I had our nightly phone call. I closed the door so she couldn’t go wandering, and we were having great fun in here. In fact, I was considering letting her sleep up here with me instead of putting her downstairs in her crate. The poor thing had been alone most of the day, so I thought maybe bending the rules was in order. I threw her ball for her and we played tug and finally I lay down on the bed and left her to amuse herself on the floor.
Otto and I had been chatting for about 20 minutes or so when I realized that although I could hear the dog at the foot of the bed, chewing away, ALL OF HER TOYS were piled up beside the head of the bed, by me.
“Hang on,” I said to Otto, “I think maybe the dog is chewing something she shouldn’t.”
Here is what touches the floor in my bedroom: My bed, an elliptical trainer that doubles as a clothes tree, a Roomba, my nightstand, a dresser, and a wooden bed tray that my laptop sits on when it’s not in use. It’s not as though there’s a lot of stuff laying around, is my point. The house is constantly being shown. It is pretty tidy here at Casa NeverSell.
So imagine my surprise and horror when I discovered that the dog was very busy destroying one of Monkey’s slippers. (They were, it turned out, tucked underneath the bed tray.)
Thus ended any ideas about a puppy slumber party. Down to the crate she went, ears flat to her head with remorse. She didn’t MEAN to chew that slipper. She didn’t WANT to chew that slipper. It’s just that, well, it smelled so yummy, all Monkey-like and irresistible. And although I’d brought so many of her very favorite toys in to play with, none of them tasted quite so much like DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE AGAIN as that slipper.
Yeah. This is WAY better than spending the weekend with my husband. Although, when I get annoyed with him, I can’t put him in a crate.
Seriously, the owners of the dog better realize how lovely and pretty, and wonderful you are. And I totally agree on the showings/people using the bathroom thing. Weird. And icky.
God, I wish I had frequent flyer miles to donate to your marriage. If I did, they’d so be yours.
Hmm I’ve got a kid free long weekend in a week or two..and my hubbster is away too, maybe I need a little ***Dawg**** to shatter the peace. I do have a couple of guinea pigs but the best they could do would be leave a shower of little poops in my slippers.
I feel bad for using pretty towels when I’m at someone’s house and leaving wet spots on them! The discourtesy shown by all these house-looking people is just stupid. So nuts to them anyway.
Sorry you couldn’t get a weekend with your husband (hehe you have a husband!…sort of :P) but glad you enjoyed your puppy company for the most part! My mum’s dog seems to have adopted me and he pretty much doesn’t leave my side.
The realtor is in on it, now I am sure of it. It is a conspiracy to trick you in to lowering the price or slowly drive you mad. That or these are other people living in vans down by the river coming to use your bathroom.
Hmmm, I think anna is right!
I’m so paranoid about messing up the pretty towels, I end up drying my hands on my jeans (my usual attire). And that’s with FRIENDS’ houses, I’d feel so weird about using a stranger’s bathroom.
Hey, I sent you plans for a perfectly reasonable husband-crate a few weeks ago … it was in the shape of a nice, detached garage/workshop/office.
Boy 1 used to love playing in the dog crate; I’m sure Otto could learn to love it.
I swear, people have no manners nowadays. None. What is UP with that??
“Otto says:
Hey, I sent you plans for a perfectly reasonable husband-crate a few weeks ago … it was in the shape of a nice, detached garage/workshop/office.”
We have one of those and let me tell, the times it has saved my life! Especially when we have company. I can just put Pookie out there and let him putter around and he’s perfectly happy. Also, if one of my guests also has a husband, we can just put him out there with Pookie and they get along amazingly well.
Sure, Pookie has to pee on some stuff to establish his dominance, and sometimes, the other husband isn’t as trained as he could be, but other than that, it’s great!
(Pookie, if you’re reading this, it was a joke. I love you. Also, your ass looks fantastic in those pants)
Not only did you puppysit but you drove to PICK IT UP? Are you wearing that Sucker sign on your forehead again?
I am of the firm belief that if you walk into these people’s houses you would find dirty, messy bathrooms. I would be horrified to find my child left a bathroom in such disarray.
Ah, dogs ya gotta love yum, and their crates too.
I think I could use a husband-crate, too :)
I hope you have a happy Memorial Day, despite your lack of husband this weekend!
Just so you know, a plane ticket isn’t all that stands in the way of a naked weekend with the man for most of us…
hope you had a great one (or, at least as great as it can get sans nakedness)
No way…we dog sat this weekend too. Our greatest crime, (or the dog’s greatest, not really sure who is at fault,) was that the dog ate a whole bag of M&Ms. Oops. We fessed up and told the owner. No big deal. But we have found that dog sitting is by far the best way to own a dog.
After a showing last week, I returned home to find someone had used the bathroom, put the lid down again, and then failed to flush.
I haven’t had anyone break any of my things yet, but I was pretty squicked out nonetheless. I’ve also had my door left unlocked multiple times after various showings. I wish you better luck.
Sister, you can put otto in a crate. It’s allowed. I read that somewhere.
Husbands in crates? I can see a whole product line here.
Just kidding.
Mostly.
Invite Some Friends Over For a Barbecue But It Falls Through So As Not To Disappoint The Kidders You Grill And Eat Hot Dogs In The Rain? That Memorial Day?!