Scary dolls, moving, and poo paws...



My parents are moving. Yes, from the house Jean-Luc and I had our glorious (on a tight budget) wedding at almost seven years ago, the garden filled with hummingbirds. And I'm feeling melancholy. But a house is just that– a house. The memories will go on. 

So, my parents are having an estate sale. With both of their daughters out of their house, they are downsizing. The estate agent brought tons of stuff over to their home to sell along with their finds– including Nicholas Cage's iron wall sconce chandeliers, other beautiful items, and some scary ones too-- like little clown figurines and dolls.

I really don't like creeptastic things- like puppets, clowns, and dolls. My mom and I have been laughing our heads off–because she's been emailing photos. But when she messaged me a picture of the dolls, I was brought back to the time before I married Jean-Luc and was dog walking and doing overnights, taking care of pets. Yes, pets. 

It's right about now that I should mention that not only did I walk dogs, I took care of cats, turtles, and, hold on, horses. Sometimes at the same time.

Which brings me to the point of this post.  Here's the back story: Jean-Luc had just visited me in October, shortly after my 40th birthday. The year was 2009. He left. And, even though surrounded by love, I was miserable. My life wasn't on track. Stacy, my dog walking boss, called me and asked:

Stacy: Sam, do you have any experience with horses?

Me: Yes. I used to ride, know how to muck stalls.

Stacy: Do you mind doing an overnight for two dogs and two horses? It pays well--

Me: I'm on it.

So, I show up at the house. Loved the couple. I was given instructions. And then I was left alone. The horses' pasture was the backyard. They had a small stable. I had to let the horses do their thing in the yard, feed them, and guide them to their stable. Maybe muck their stalls. (Which I did.) In the interim, the dogs were running around in horse manure. All day. When I let the dogs into the house, their poop paws left tracks. Everywhere. I grabbed a mop. For me, too.  Poo paws on my face, my body, EVERYWHERE!








The clients left their Wi-Fi code.  I really needed to talk to Jean-Luc- we were in the mode when we spoke for two hours a day, through email, SKYPE, or phone calls. But the code didn't work. I thought, maybe, I should just go to bed. And then I saw them. A shelf of cracked-face porcelain dolls staring down at me in the guest bedroom, the two giant dogs– a Rottie and a Shepherd–flanked to both sides. IN A TWIN BED. WITH POO PAWS! AND SCARY DOLLS! 

JOLT.

Not sleeping tonight. 

Pacing, pacing, the poo paw dogs behind me. 

Eventually, I called Jean-Luc, gave him the house line, and said, "Call me back immediately!"

He did. And, boy, did he laugh. 

I did tell the clients I called France when they returned, and that the call lasted 15 seconds. I'd pay for it. They were fine. Their fuzzy wuzzies were well taken care of. The horses were, neigh, happy, and the poo paw dogs slept next to me that night. Plus, I mopped the floor.

That's all she wrote.

So, the next time you think you're having a bad day...imagine poo paws. Everywhere.

xox



 

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