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Pippa and her Shadow

Pippa is a 4 year old greyhound canine, but if that was all I said about her I would be allowing a tragedy of untold proportions. I was once told they were nervous creatures with an abundance of energy, bordering on the reckless. I never actually met a greyhound until my time in Portland while pet sitting.

Pippa is inquisitive, so much so that she notices her own shadow, and attempts to smell it. Does this not make her a philosopher? Where is wonder born? I see wonder in her, and the fact that she is a dog doesn’t seem to matter. Her soul feels just like mine, and I am really starting to wonder if there is a difference.

Yah, she is a dog, I see the being and call it dog, but is that a fair assessment? I see more. I’m not a fool, I know I could be projecting human traits on this animal, but I contemplated that possibility and have come to the conclusion that I’m not doing that. I see more. I see and feel love not just for her, but from her. As if just being closer to her has made love stronger, for loves sake.

That sounds like some 60’s hip shit, but that’s what it felt like. She has goofy little nuances; such as when we went into town Pippa took two pairs of shoes and proceeded to place them in all the places she frequented; Melissa’s side of the bed, the back-door and Pippa’s bed. We don’t even know where she found the other pair of shoes, but it feels like a coping mechanism, similar to a child and a blanket.

Pippa is calm, when on a leash, but off the leash she runs like the wind, usually running circles around her other four-legged friends. She does in fact have a few in the neighborhood that frequent the same park where she has the opportunity to run free. She seems to miss them when we go too many days without seeing them. Not to mention how her shoulders slump when Pippa realizes that we are nearing the end of our walk.

Pippa is most definitely one of kind, just like we are one of kind. I am glad to have met her and I am better for meeting her. I don’t really know how feels about me, but she adores Melissa. If you question my findings, maybe you should give pet sitting a go. Experience is our true teacher, and mine has been very enlightening.

A Weight Lifting Canine and a Close-Knit Community

Suzi is a 17-year-old professional weight lifter. That’s what I thought when I first met the canine we were sitting for in Vinton, Virginia. This dog walked around like an old Yoda until you pulled out the leash. Then, in Yoda fashion, Suzi bounced around as if she was possessed by the force itself.

It was quite apparent to me why Suzi was all muscle about twenty steps into our first walk; my legs were on fire, and it felt like I was a mile and a half into a run, Suzi wasn’t even panting yet.

The entire neighborhood was built on the side of a mountain. I swear some of the roads were tilted damn near twenty degrees. I decided then, I loved mountains, but that my home would be built on flatter land.

This low-lander, a week into our stay at this pet sit, has finally begun to adjust to the higher altitude and degree of incline. What stood out most about this particular neighborhood, was the tight-knit cohesiveness of the people within it. It seemed everyone in the mountainside community knew who we were, and more impressively they knew Suzi by name. Evidenced by at least two other walkers, strangers to us, that called out to Suzi as we walked by.

This is a weird bubble of reality, that would be welcome around the world as far as I’m concerned. It is unusual in this disconnected world we live in today, and I hope I see more if it in the coming house/pet sits that we venture to.

The herd of deer that wanders through the back yard never gets old, either. The wildlife here is wondrous if you take the time to notice it. The bird species are so numerous, with Cardinals and Finches with amazing plumes of color varying from blue, red, purple, and even yellow. I find myself becoming an avid bird watcher, something as a child I would secretly jeer my grandmother for being. Do wonders never cease?

The Homestead on the Piedmont

Michael woke up face to face to Oscar the cat, purring a mere two inches from his face.

Michael gently shewed oscar to the foot of the bed mumbling, “It’s not time yet, the coffee hasn’t even brewed.”

Michael rolled leaving the customary spot between his scissored legs for Oscar the cat to lay, waiting for the coming aroma and beeps to stir his servants to the inevitable task of preparing his breakfast.

Michael laid with one hand over his wife’s waist, when the floorboards creaked a few feet from the bed as if a child was attempting to tiptoe away but was betrayed by his weight. Michael perked up, but remained motionless, not wanting whatever was there to be spooked by his alertness.

Michael mentally checked all the sounds: Melissas’ rhythmic breathing, Oscar the cats’ purring, and Snook the Dogs’ snoring. With all the possible sources accounted for Michael opened up his mind, searching for the veiled presence, but that front was quiet as well. all his senses were searching for the source of the noise, waiting for the house to betray whoever visited their bedside, when the trickle of the coffee maker and the aroma of morning crept into the bedroom.

Whatever it was, it was gone. Snook was now awake, huffing and puffing in his bed, fighting his need to pee, Oscar was creeping back up to Michaels’ face to insist on breakfast, and with the coffee maker hard at work, Michael decided to get up and start his morning. Hoping his eyes wouldn’t fall on a would-be intruder, for which they didn’t.

While peeing, Michael decided the best way to feed the pets was to bribe his love, Melissa, with coffee, and coax her into feeding Oscar and Snook, something that he normally did, but for whatever reason didn’t want to today. Michael Silently justified his manipulation with the fact that it was his turn to clean the chicken coops.

Not nearly enough coffee was consumed, but the sun began to crest the over the treetops, beckoning the need to release the chickens from the coop, and to tend to their nightly refuse. It was Michael’s least favorite chore, but he only had to do it every other day, and besides, these chickens laid the biggest eggs he has ever seen, so Michael thought it was the least he could do.

Snook did his best to sneak away while Michael and Melissa set out the water, scratch, and pellets, but Melissa called him back, “I’m watching you, c,mon get back here.” It wasn’t long before we were heading into the forest for Snook’s customary walk.

A mere minute passed when four deer scampered across our path, just ahead of us. Snook growled and stomped a few feet ahead of us, ensuring that the deer knew just who’s forest they trespassed on. We continued on our path, which took us alongside the river.

Snook picked up what must have been the scent of the deer we roused earlier, and decided he was going to track them across the river. This old hound jumped into the ice water barely touching the bottom with his tip toes all the way across.

Melissa realizing what was happening tried to stop what was evolving before her eyes, “Snook, no. I hope you can swim, I’m not going in after you.”

Michael thought to himself, “That means I’m gonna have to”

Snook tiptoed back across once he realized we weren’t as committed to the task of finding the culprits that trespassed on his territory. Both Michael and Melissa silently let out the breath they didn’t know they were holding when Snook was back on their side of the river bank.

Snook was proud of himself, strutting in a full trot the rest of the walk, leading the way like a naive child with a wooden sword, ready to face anything. Michael couldn’t help but smile at the confidence the dip in the icy river infused Snook with.

The walk finished in customary fashion with Michael and Melissa talking about their dreams. They let snook in the house, despite half of Snooks body still wet from the swim, silently wondering if the house cleaner, scheduled to come the following day, was going to be angry with them for that them for that decision.

Michael cooked a hearty breakfast of sausage patties, those glorious eggs they collected every day, which they soaked up with buttered and jammed toast.

It was a wonderful beginning to another day at the homestead on the Piedmont; Michael would write in his blog, and Melissa would work towards her doctorate. Together, they basked in another blessed day.

In the Midst of the Compassionate

Snook is a twelve-year-old dog with a gentle yet grumbly demeanor and Oscar is an eleven-year-old cat that is comfortably overweight, with a mournful and complaintive meow that simultaneously cries out for his usual humans, while begrudgingly requesting love from the pet sitters.

Let’s not forget the eight chickens, all with names related to the plume, heritage, or behavior of their respective breed. It is only day two of our house and pet sit so you will forgive me if I don’t regale their names just yet.

As a Pet/House sitter, you get a feel early on of the people you are working for through the care and maintenance of both the animals and the property. It seems as if the land protects or even harbors the inhabitants here. It’s obvious that this garden of peace and compassion was tended to with fierceness and intent.

The land naturally sits as sentry around the house and horse pens; being surrounded by a wooded glen on all sides, within the wood a River runs the length of one side of the property, and a lazy creek runs throughout the woods feeding the river at various points. It is truly a nursery where both animal and man come together in harmony.

Horses give purpose to the entire property, the owners being avid riders, the chickens lay eggs and in return they are housed comfortably and fed to their delight, not to mention that even after they reach an age where they would be considered useless for egg laying, they are cared and tended to until they die of old age. They don’t stay cooped up either, we let them out every day and every day they roam the property stuffing their little beaks with whatever morsel they find.

Oscar the Cat is still warming up to his new caretakers, but we have already impressed his owners with pictures of pettings and such, something they were sure would be unlikely. Oscar wanted to go outside, so I told him, the only way he is getting out of this house is if he let me pet him. Oscar didn’t waste any time; without missing a beat he walked right over to me and rubbed on my leg and allowed me to pet him with vigor. Being a man of my word, I was forced to let him out even though there was some question whether he would return to the home, with us being so foreign to his environment.

So, on a cold rainy night, with my partner in life protesting, I let Oscar out of the home.

“I gave that cat my word”, I said.

She knew that I wasn’t going to budge, so she crossed her arms and said, “You’re not going to bed until that cat comes back inside.”

An hour later Oscar was back inside, realizing his lost humans were not somehow locked out of the house.

Snook, the Canine of the family didn’t realize something was amiss, until that night, when we cozied up in his humans’ bed. He became visibly depressed, after which we assured him that they would be back and that we were just here to love on him until they did indeed return. It wasn’t until his morning walk, the next day, in the cold monsoon, did realize we would keep his routine intact. He was very happy to trounce through the rain and even had to be scolded to keep away from the swollen river bank, as the river was swift and possibly dangerous if he were to fall in.

Overall, the first two days have been exciting and exhilarating. It is going to be a pleasure filling the shoes of such compassionate people. I look forward to the days to come.

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