About two and a half weeks ago Tim’s mom and sister went to Ohio for a whole week and asked me if I would be able and willing to housesit/petsit for them. I said yes without hesitation! A whole week alone with dogs (and one cat)? HELL YES. Plus it feels nice that they trust me enough to stay in their home and look after their animals.
Taking care of Rory is a challenge in and of itself (he can be such a stubborn a$$hole!), and I had agreed to watch over their three beloved digs (not a typo, that’s what they call them), Brady, Schatzi, and Jezi, and cat, Molly. It felt a bit overwhelming, but I was up for the challenge. They’re good dogs anyway, so I wasn’t completely worried.
I stopped by a few days before they left to see how they go about feeding them, and then I got a tour of all the little doohickies around the house (watering flowers, security alarms, etc). I also did a test run to see how they’d respond to me coming in and feeding them the day after. Luckily for me, they freakin’ love me — so it went well.
I was prepared for Brady’s thick drool to hit the hardwood floor come breakfast and dinner time (hence why a paper towel is placed on the floor by the food), I was prepared to hold him in case he had a random seizure, I was prepared for Jezi’s sneaky kisses and knew when to avert them (she’s sweet, but she eats poop), hell, I was even prepared to cleanup the litter box every other day. What I wasn’t prepared for was something else I didn’t even think would happen.
Poor Brady. That guy’s stomach is super sensitive. He ate Rory’s food when I was preparing their dinner. Later that night I was on the phone with Tim and that’s when I smelled the funk. “I think one of the dogs tooted… oh God, it’s so potent!” Several minutes later, it didn’t go away. I got off the couch to adjust myself and then I saw little brown spots around the table. I thought they could be mud prints from when I let them in. But they weren’t shaped like paws. And then I saw a big goopy brown sludge pile and that’s when my heart sank.
“Tim, I think one of the dogs had diarrhea.”
I was panicking. I got off the phone with Tim after freaking out (“Oh my God, Tim. Oh my God. Oh, it’s so gross. OH GOD, WHY? TIM, WHAT DO I DO?”), rolled up my sleeves, and got down to business… Mike Rowe style.
I’m glad no hidden cameras were placed around the house for reality show purposes because I was HORRIBLE. I made whiny noises, I constantly cried out, “OH MY GOD THIS IS SO GROSS!” And gagged numerous times. If I were being filmed for a reality show, Joel McHale would’ve probably featured me on The Soup and made fun of me to no avail.
Brady had diarrhea the next day too. And to boot, Rory ate all kinds of plants when I let him outside to play with the other dogs, sooo he threw up quite a few times (he even puked on my Hello Kitty blanket and the blanket the digs sleep on in the family room). At one point, he had a root in his mouth that looked a lot like poop. He wouldn’t drop it, so I had to reach in and get it. AHH! Can you imagine taking out mysterious items out of your dog’s mouth?
Long story short, I knew taking care of animals was going to be hard, I just didn’t realize it was going to be that hard. But despite the loose poop and puke, I enjoyed their company very much (animals > people, it’s a fact) and even offered to petsit again if they ever needed me to. :D