What About My House

"What about your own house?" people ask when I tell them what I do. "Do you even have a house?" is another common reaction.

"Yes, I have a house", I explain. "I like it very much". I can see the question in the other's face and so I continue. "When I'm at another person's house, my house sits empty unless one of my out of town friends or relatives needs to use it. Then, I get to have someone else live in my house while I'm living in someone else's house".

But, it is more complicated than that. My house almost always sits empty, unused and fairly idle, not using much gas, electricity or water. Of course, if I'm on a long sit I'll come home every 2-3 days. Pick up the mail, check my email (even if I have access where I'm staying, checking my email at home seems to keep the house 'alive'). I don't stay long and I seldom do any house or yard work. I simply come in and go out. Look the place over and continue on my way.

"Well, can't you leave where you are? my friends also ask. "Do you have to be with those animals all the time?" "Of course", I reply, "I can leave."

But the truth is I seldom want to. And I never like leaving at night. I feel my responsibility too strongly. Many people have pointed out that the dogs owners go out at night from time to time, but I know the value of a regular schedule and the wisdom of keeping trauma to a minimum and so I make it a rule not to go out at night unless absolutely necessary.

It is not an issue. I enjoy the solitude housesitting affords. It has been one of my goals for two years now. To use solitude for refreshment, reflection and creative regeneration.

"How's it working then?" is the enivitable next question.

At this point in a conversation, I see my friend's confusion. "Why not just take your solitude at home and stay in if you want solitude?" they ask. I'm ready for an answer and I give it with a practiced pace, patiently explaining the difference between forced solitude and chosen solitude. Besides, I would finalize, I'm getting paid for it too.

This seems to satisfy most people and we get on with our lives as though housesitting is as normal as any other activity. My friend's fall into two categories. The ones who would never give up their time at home to live in another's house and the ones who wonder what that would be like and applaud me in the adventure of it.

What about my house? My house seldom measures up to the houses I visit and live in for periods of time. Yet, when I come home, when I finally settle back in, unpack and do what I call 'bring my house back to life'. I am so pleased and happy to be in my house, I know it's all worth it.

I do miss the animals though and I miss having an animal of my own to share my house. Perhaps someday, I will.

Living in Someone Else's House - 1

When I stay in another person's space, I first come into the space without my suitcases, food sacks or any other items. I generally spend time talking with and reaquainting myself with the dogs.

Then, I take in the environment. I check out where things are, what space needs to be changed or moved to include my presence and gradually, very gradually, I begin to make it my own. The ease with which I do this is a constant challenge to me.

I live alone (grandchildren and visiting family and friends not withstanding). I miss a daily compainion at times. Housesitting with dogs is a good way to fill that void without having the full responsibility of a relationship with another person or the constant caretaking of a pet.

By the third day it usually happens that the house feels less foreign and more "mine". The dogs are more bonded with me, our routine established. I still keep my own things orderly, watch for crumbs and dust and I put things away exactly where I found them whenever possible. The challenge is to recreate a space for myself while maintaining the homeowner's space for them.

In a way, the house becomes mine. Usually, I spend sometime outdoors as most homes have lovely patio areas, often natural landscapes as well. I especially like to go out at sunset. Watching the light fade, sitting in the quiet at the end of a day always calms me and the dogs seem to like it as well.

We sit and we look. The light changes slowly but always there is more to watch. I feel closest to the dogs at this time. It's as though we share an animal sense of light and shapes and sounds together. We both seem to know when it is over and return quietly to the indoor environment.

I slowly get up and comment "Well, Flora or Buddy or Shadow or whoever I'm with at the time, let's go in." And so the short evening begins. The evening s are short ecause every dog I'vee sat with goes to bed early. Some go to sleep as early as 7:30 and non later than 8:30.

Like small children, there is a relief when the dog or dogs go to sleep. But, like little children, they will get up early too. So, I bgin my own healthy, wealthy and wise routines by going Early to bed because I know it is early to rise.

Every Dog is My Favorite Dog

After I’d been sitting for about a year, it occurred to me that every dog I sat for became my favorite for that time. I really feel in love with each and every one. Of course, there were variations and minor irritations, but the “soul” or “essence” of the dog was always lovable and I always fell in love with him or her.

I began thinking on this one morning while I was watching India.

India was not only special in her own way, but she was physically special as well. At an early age, she’d been hit by a car, taken into the vet and left there by a Good Samaritan. Unfortunately, the good Samaritan had no money to treat India and left without leaving any contact information. Alone and badly injured, India looked to be a goner. The vet’s office, however; had a list of concerned clients who had generously given money for the care of abandoned and injured animals in the past. Shelley, the front desk assistant, went to work quickly calling each person on that list, while the vet did her best to keep India comfortable.

Their efforts were not in vain. Michael stepped forward to foot the bill for India’s treatment. At the time, he had four lovely cats as company and had no intention of getting a dog, but something about this situation touched his heart and he opened it and his pocketbook up to India.

The result was a complete amputation of the right hind leg ending at the hip. Several weeks of recovery and much trauma and pain treatment ensued. All through this time, Michael would visit and watch the progress of this remarkable animal. His heart remained open and eventually, he adopted India as his own.

His decision to adopt India was a difficult one. Because of the trauma, the long confinement and her tender age, India was a fearful and anxious animal . Michael had taken on more than just a new dog; he had the responsibility of rehabilitating India from a traumatized, needy, fearful dog into a lively and loving companion.

The result was, her natural athleticism took hold and India thrived under Michael’s care. She fit into her new home well. She and the cats struck up a cordial friendship, each keeping their boundaries and sharing Michael’s attention without major incident.

Her spirit however, lagged behind her body in healing.

When I met India, she was a glory to watch run. Her ability to get around, to chase lizards, meet other dogs, get in and out of my car was not hampered in the least by her back leg missing. Of course, there were a few accommodations that had to be made, but they were slight and for the most part, it was as though she was as physically able as any other 4 year old Doberman.

Michael had told me. “She is not to be pitied. She is whole and perfect as she is”. He said that she was a perfect mirror for him.

I understood and I too saw her as a mirror for my own lame foot, for my clumsy underdeveloped ways of moving and my victim attitude about it all. But India didn’t reflect any of those frailities. So, I was watching myself and mostly, I was watching myself as I wanted myself to be. Whole, complete and perfect just the way I was. Doing for myself what I needed with what I had. Not suffering, not asking for special help.

Of course, there was the spirit to consider. India was needy. I am needy. We seemed to compliment one another. She was needy for attention, for constant reassurance. I was still developing my ability to give.

I worked for many years to adjust my needy behaviors My needs for attention have turned into careers, relationships, wonderful internal explorations and horrible aborations when I indulged in it. Ultimately, my route has taken a lifetime and has been filled with more detours and dead ends than India’s route. Her route as far as I could see was well defined with Michael’s attention to her, his good care and how he provided a loving home for her. Even the Dog Day Care Facility he took her to if he had to be gone for any length of time, showed his compassion and his sense of responsibility.

I suppose, I was jealous until I realized I’d gotten re-parented in various ways myself over the years. Some was of my own doing, some came from others in a variety of doses. Silently, I contemplated those who had helped me along the way with gratitude and wonder at the working of our fates.

I was reminded at every turn of the perceived mistakes, the seemingly false behaviors that also guided me to where I am today. It seems harder to grasp the rightness of those events, yet I knew from deep inner work that I had accepted each and everyone as a gift and a guide in bringing me closer and closer to my authentic self.

With true victim mentality, I fall back into despair occasionally. I think I will never reach my goals.. And yet, there is the inner knowing that remembers the process, the path and the wonder of life as it presents itself in all its diverse ways.

India is one of those ways. If she despairs, it doesn’t show. If she gives up, I can’t detect it. I see her ask for comfort. I see her rest when she needs to rest. She is a perfect mirror for myself. Thank you ,Michael, for that perspective. And thank you myself, for manifesting this wonderful house sitting assignment.

Truly, this dog is my favorite dog.

FIRST DAYS

What follows is a bit out of sequence. But I'm moving forward with this section and will return to write on how I started housesitting later. Thanks for understanding. - SM


When I arrive at a new assignment, I begin with all the zeal of a safari journey. I unload the car, planning where everything is to go. I sometimes stage this unloading phase so the dog or dogs won’t be upset or out of sorts. I scope out where things are placed in the kitchen, bathrooms, etc., so if I use them, I can put them back right where I found them before I leave.

I soak in the ambiance, check out the landmarks from the windows, and make sure that I have what I need to settle in. I eventually begin to make the space my own, the bathroom slowly takes on the appearance of my own at home. The kitchen gets organized to my convenience and even the bedroom takes on the same slightly messy look I seem to carry with me, no matter where I am.

Whether I’ve been to this location before or not, I find the closest food stores and gas stations. I go out and buy some things. This is when the first inkling of depression descends. There is a small, first whiff of deception. I feel like I am an interloper, not of this area. I try and imagine myself as a member of this affluent community, just doing my shopping like everyone else. Naturally, I begin to see through the deception and view myself as a fake and a wanna-be. Of course, I tell myself, this is not true.

I tell myself that I am just another person shopping, using the stores like any one else. I’m entitled to be here. But I know that deep inside, I really want to pretend to be a resident of the extended community of rich people. I want to be seen and treated differently than when I go to my own neighborhood markets that are so much less attractive.

There is a strong feeling of not being ok. I feel I am so out of place, outside my boundaries. I know I’m pretending to be a part of something I’m not. It’s strong, but I fight it.

And that’s when I begin to feel the loneliness. It descends as a shadow. When I return to the house, it spreads to every corner, every minute of my time. I am alone. Even if the dog(or dogs) have bonded to me, I have the distinct feeling that my only real function is that of biscuit-giver,food-preparer, walk-maker.

This is not my house. This is not my neighborhood, not my life and yet it is. I am a displaced person in a place I have created. I can’t even complain about it because it was my choice, I knew what I was getting into. Upside, downside there is still the loneliness.

The Beginning of Dog Conversations

I haven’t had a dog since I was 11 years old. That year, a car hit our family dog, Lizzie, while I was in school. I never saw her body and never saw her again. My relationship with Lizzie was short lived. I watched her born in a neighbor’s garage to a female cocker spaniel mix and an unknown father. It was my first education as to how we all come into the world. I don’t even remember taking care of her when she was a puppy. While she was our family dog, I’m sure she was my Mother’s responsibility. I do remember trying to make friends with her, playing by running in the vacant fields near my home while she chased and ran with me. Somehow, I never felt Lizzie knew what I meant when I said come on Liz, run Liz or begged her to play with me. She was a sweet dog, but she was not mine. As a result, I never experienced what it was to truly bond with an animal.

As I grew up, I was vaguely aware that dogs were special pets, usually for men. I had cats. I liked cats. I could appreciate cats. Dogs seemed somewhat foreign, cruder than a cat. And that was the way it was for a long, long time.

Yet, always I knew. I knew dogs had special powers. A dog could sense your fear. Dogs knew if you were authentic or insincere. Since I knew I was a fake, I stayed away from dogs fearing they would find me out and tell the world. So much of my life was lived without any significant contact with dogs.

Oh, I had a few friends who had dogs, but not that many. I think a turning point came when a woman friend of mine lost her long time companion Micheal. Michael was a dog. She and Michael had lived together for over 15 years. I knew people got upset over losing a pet, but this was as strong a grief as I’d ever seen for the death of a relative or dare I say, a spouse. In fact, her love for Michael had been foreign to me and I thought just a bit overdone. But the impression remained with me. Here was a friend I highly regarded, mourning her dog, obviously having had a close relationship with this animal; closer than I'd ever had with any human being.

I was aware dogs had special qualities many people valued. I wanted to experience those qualities for myself. But I was still wary that dogs would find me out and I would easily be seen as the fake I really was. Then, I realized I’d done twelve years of therapy working on my own authentic self and I was pretty grounded and I knew myself to be a caring person. Maybe I could get close to a dog without the dog ignoring me, or worse yet, showing disdain toward me.

I was soon able to put that theory to the test.