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Adventures in Dogsitting
To those new to the flist - I work at a humane society. I'm a dog person. I'm allergic to cats. The last has no bearing on the following story but it's semi-interesting considering where I work.
For extra cash (and to be able to afford Prophecy next year), I dogsit. Every weekend in the month of January, I get a paid vacation away from my family. To start my month off right, I'm housesitting for the next few days for Trooper and Trixie. It's Day 1/Night 2...and already I want to kill these dogs. They're pug/chihuahua mixes. Imagine a pug body with the buggy eyes of a chihuahua plus big ole spots of random colours and you've got these dogs.
They are the worst behaved dogs I have ever had the misfortune of having to deal with. My own dog required me to carry around an old sock at all times because he would turn on his back and piss on himself if you raised your voice at him and THAT is less annoying than these nasty buggers.
I was told that I might have a teeny [emphasis mine] problem getting their leashes on them. Teeny? That's like saying the Grand Canyon is a little hole. The one bit me on the foot. Thank the maker I'd worn closed toed shoes for the first time in three years. The other one lunged at my face while I was cursing about the bite.
After a two hour long struggle to try to get their leashes on, I finally chucked a treat outside onto the patio and made them pee there. I figured we're having rain, let God wash the piss off the patio and no one will ever know.
While the nasty buggers are outside, I look at the instructions and my check. On the check, there's an extra 20 bucks. I think, hey, tip! SCORE! Then I realise, it's not a tip, it's for the co-pay at the hospital when they attempt to devour me. Why do I think that? Because I let these two hellspawn back in and they immediately start barking and won't shut the fuck up. They're dancing around my sock clad feet and it isn't friendly. Now, not only do I have to worry about them eating me, I have a headache that slows my reflexes.
Finally, that night, I get a leash on ONE dog (coincidentally, this is the one that bit me. I guess since he got a taste of me, he decided that he'd lure me into a false sense of complacency and act friendly). Take him for a short walk, yaddayaddayadda. Get back to the apartment and go to bed because I had to be up at 5 am to go see my father off on his trip back to Pennsylvania.
Those fucking dogs didn't stop barking all night. Personally, I'm amazed the owners haven't been evicted because GAHHHHH, even I would be pissed at the amount of barking and I have four fucking dogs.
In the morning, the little buggers won't go outside, won't let me put their leashes on them and attempt to bite me once more. So, I tossed a few treats into the crate, they went in and I slammed the door shut on the buggy eyed freaks.
Come back a few hours later and I guess the dogs decided I'm their best friend (must have had a conference about it what with being stuck in their crate while I went andavoided them ran some errands). They let me put their leashes on them, we went for a very nice walk and came back and we all vegged, them in their beds, me on the couch.
Just took them for another walk and here's where I think... no one pays me enough for this crap...
The boy dog, Trooper, has to wear a diaper because his mummy and daddy don't want to traumatise him by housebreaking(did I forget to mention that little tidbit earlier?) and I forgot to take it off him before the walk because, hello, who thinks, hey, the ickle doggy shouldn't have a diaper on? Anyway, I'm just walking around outside with the diaper and the poop bag and two disgruntled dogs. This really cute guy says to me about the cute dogs and I go, they're fear aggressive, i wouldn't pet them. He goes, oh, how sad blahblahblah. Finally, it comes out that I'm housesitting for the owners and that's when he spots the diaper. He goes... "you get paid to change a dog diaper?" Um, yeah, err, it's not like it looks. ok, it is how it looks. Yes I get paid to change a dog diaper. He has my number but I'm sorta doubting he's going to be calling anytime soon. Somehow, methinks I lost cool points by having something that closely resembles a maxi-pad in my hand and admitting that it's a doggie diaper.
Their house is a shrine to their dogs, I can't get away from them. They even have the dogs on their lamp shades. The dogs are on the coasters, on the walls, on a frame around the tv, on the bookshelves, on a PILLOW, on a blanket, in the kitchen and in the sodding BATHROOM.
The best part of my instructions? I can "feel free to dress Trooper and Trixie however [I] wish. Their sweaters and costumes are on top of their crate". Gee golly gosh, YAYES and thanks! I'll be sure to do brave their biting habits to do just that for mine and their enjoyment.
Anyway, add to it that there are only soy crisps (err, ew?), carrots (don't eat 'em) and club soda in the house and the only internet is on their computer with none of the messengers installed and, to sum up, I don't get paid enough for this crap.
I cannot wait until next weekend for the cute little furballs that like to play fetch and don't try to eat me.
For extra cash (and to be able to afford Prophecy next year), I dogsit. Every weekend in the month of January, I get a paid vacation away from my family. To start my month off right, I'm housesitting for the next few days for Trooper and Trixie. It's Day 1/Night 2...and already I want to kill these dogs. They're pug/chihuahua mixes. Imagine a pug body with the buggy eyes of a chihuahua plus big ole spots of random colours and you've got these dogs.
They are the worst behaved dogs I have ever had the misfortune of having to deal with. My own dog required me to carry around an old sock at all times because he would turn on his back and piss on himself if you raised your voice at him and THAT is less annoying than these nasty buggers.
I was told that I might have a teeny [emphasis mine] problem getting their leashes on them. Teeny? That's like saying the Grand Canyon is a little hole. The one bit me on the foot. Thank the maker I'd worn closed toed shoes for the first time in three years. The other one lunged at my face while I was cursing about the bite.
After a two hour long struggle to try to get their leashes on, I finally chucked a treat outside onto the patio and made them pee there. I figured we're having rain, let God wash the piss off the patio and no one will ever know.
While the nasty buggers are outside, I look at the instructions and my check. On the check, there's an extra 20 bucks. I think, hey, tip! SCORE! Then I realise, it's not a tip, it's for the co-pay at the hospital when they attempt to devour me. Why do I think that? Because I let these two hellspawn back in and they immediately start barking and won't shut the fuck up. They're dancing around my sock clad feet and it isn't friendly. Now, not only do I have to worry about them eating me, I have a headache that slows my reflexes.
Finally, that night, I get a leash on ONE dog (coincidentally, this is the one that bit me. I guess since he got a taste of me, he decided that he'd lure me into a false sense of complacency and act friendly). Take him for a short walk, yaddayaddayadda. Get back to the apartment and go to bed because I had to be up at 5 am to go see my father off on his trip back to Pennsylvania.
Those fucking dogs didn't stop barking all night. Personally, I'm amazed the owners haven't been evicted because GAHHHHH, even I would be pissed at the amount of barking and I have four fucking dogs.
In the morning, the little buggers won't go outside, won't let me put their leashes on them and attempt to bite me once more. So, I tossed a few treats into the crate, they went in and I slammed the door shut on the buggy eyed freaks.
Come back a few hours later and I guess the dogs decided I'm their best friend (must have had a conference about it what with being stuck in their crate while I went and
Just took them for another walk and here's where I think... no one pays me enough for this crap...
The boy dog, Trooper, has to wear a diaper because his mummy and daddy don't want to traumatise him by housebreaking(did I forget to mention that little tidbit earlier?) and I forgot to take it off him before the walk because, hello, who thinks, hey, the ickle doggy shouldn't have a diaper on? Anyway, I'm just walking around outside with the diaper and the poop bag and two disgruntled dogs. This really cute guy says to me about the cute dogs and I go, they're fear aggressive, i wouldn't pet them. He goes, oh, how sad blahblahblah. Finally, it comes out that I'm housesitting for the owners and that's when he spots the diaper. He goes... "you get paid to change a dog diaper?" Um, yeah, err, it's not like it looks. ok, it is how it looks. Yes I get paid to change a dog diaper. He has my number but I'm sorta doubting he's going to be calling anytime soon. Somehow, methinks I lost cool points by having something that closely resembles a maxi-pad in my hand and admitting that it's a doggie diaper.
Their house is a shrine to their dogs, I can't get away from them. They even have the dogs on their lamp shades. The dogs are on the coasters, on the walls, on a frame around the tv, on the bookshelves, on a PILLOW, on a blanket, in the kitchen and in the sodding BATHROOM.
The best part of my instructions? I can "feel free to dress Trooper and Trixie however [I] wish. Their sweaters and costumes are on top of their crate". Gee golly gosh, YAYES and thanks! I'll be sure to do brave their biting habits to do just that for mine and their enjoyment.
Anyway, add to it that there are only soy crisps (err, ew?), carrots (don't eat 'em) and club soda in the house and the only internet is on their computer with none of the messengers installed and, to sum up, I don't get paid enough for this crap.
I cannot wait until next weekend for the cute little furballs that like to play fetch and don't try to eat me.