Sitting with the Dogs

About writing

2010-03-13T20:25:00.002-07:00

Write what you know is the first advice I ever heard about how to be a writer. Well, here I am, housesitting little Mattie the dachshund and sitting with her is a delight as well as an adventure. Today we went outside and sat in the new Spring sun. She managed to navigate the entire yard, sniffing and smelling and patrolling the perimeter as thoroughly as a blood hound. It was a pleasure to see her outside her house environs. This little girl had been attacked by a coyote eighteen months ago and the owners never let her out very far. She lives within the confines of a beautiful foothills home, with limited access to a rock covered yard. Only in the Summer does she get exercise by swimming in the pool She and I had a great time together last year throwing balls and swimming up and down the pool at least twice and sometimes threes times a day. But it's too cold now, so I will take her out tomorrow to walk in the park and there is always the treadmill set up specifically for her use. Sad to see the little thing trudging along, going nowhere, obideiently getting her boring exercise. I never liked doing the treadmill either. Mattie loves to sit next to me and cuddle and lick my face and she plays ball and I really, really love being with her. I will take her picture and post it here. She is a sweet, comforting, calm dog. I like Mattie.

Ready to Write

2009-07-28T08:03:00.002-07:00

Did you know this blog is a precursor to a book? I'm committed to publishing Sitting With The Dogs and will be reorganizing this blog shortly. That may mean several seperate blogs (chapters) or it may mean a different way to arrange posts within this blog. It could be that this will be an update of how the book is doing too I haven't decided yet

Quick Update

2009-04-15T16:48:00.002-07:00

Hello Dog lover friends

First let me say, I have been writing about dogs but not posting, so be patient, they are coming.

Second, check out Sweet Flora's picture just added. She is a lovely companion, always welcoming and forever sniffing. Flora is another of my favorite dogs (whenever I sit with her, whenever I think of her, whenever I see her picture) I love Flora

Success!!!

2008-12-01T14:01:00.001-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I've been busy with house sitting, doggies, and of course the festivities have begun!

Good News! Duchess and Foxy indeed found a new home and very nice one at that. I haven't seen them in their new digs, but reports are that they are happy with their new people and have a yard to run in as well as nice walks in the morning. Happy ending indeed.

I will blog a bit more soon, for now, just wanted to update you from my last post.

Sandy

A Place in Heaven

2008-10-24T15:01:00.006-07:00

I'm sitting with two dogs (Mackey and Shadow) for about four days. Their people are off on a well-deserved getaway and for good reason.

About three weeks ago, while walking their own dogs, they came across two obviously stray and probably abandoned dogs who simply adopted them on the spot. These two people, with all their heart and love of dogs worked to find the owners and when that failed have been caring for them while trying to find a home for the two dogs.

They are housing both in a neighbor's yard (while the people are out of town). They go over twice a day to walk them, as well as a couple times a day to feed and nuture them. They have a friend who has also taken on the job of walking and visiting this pair of dogs. Between them, they have managed to save the two from the Human Society (certain death?) and kept the dogs together as they are obviously a pair.

Let me introduce you to Duchess and Foxy. Duchess is a fully grown white German Shepard female. Foxy a sweet mix of chow and terrier giving her a redish brown coat and a very friendly dispostion. Duchess is cautious with anyone. She would be considered skitterish, but after only a day and a half of visiting with her, she now lets me pet her and takes small bits of food from my hand. I've learned, however, to sit quietly and calmly for a few minutes before she will approach. Otherwise, she starts and runs to the corner of the yard. It is sad to see.

I have decided that my two clients and their friend have all earned a place in heaven for taking care of these dogs. Both would love to adopt them, but space considerations make it impossible as both have two dogs already and too small of houses to take in two more.

I'm hoping someone will respond soon so these animals can find a good home. I know and understand that there are hundreds, thousands, maybe more abandoned and needy dogs. But these two are the ones I know. I'll update you and add a picture of them later.

For the Love of Dogs

2008-09-27T00:42:00.002-07:00

I know we have all heard that a dog is man's best friend. I recently learned that a man(person) is a dog's best friend as well. To me, that means there is a very strong relationship between a dog and a human being.

What a lovely thing to have!!! And I am beginning to suspect that we can have similar relationships with all animals. But dogs do seem to be so special!

Today I met a wonderful little Pappion (sp?). He was the happiest guy. All dogs are usually friendly, but this fellow just radiated friendliness. Of course, I responded in a positive way to him and you know, it felt good to enjoy that little dog. It felt wonderful to see him enjoy it too.

I was his best friend for those few moments and he was mine. Lovely!!

So, as a housesitter, I get the distinct pleasure to sit with many, many dogs. Each one is an individual, each one wants nothing more than to please me (and get a few doggie treats!). And I believe I benefit from it.

So thank you all you dogs that have been my best friend. I hope you found me a best friend too!

Arf
Sandy

I stand corrected

2008-09-12T00:28:00.002-07:00

A few posts back, I talked about marker dogs and sniffer dogs. Well, I stand corrected about a couple of things.

I made the generalization that male dogs did more marking than female. The little terrier mix named Flora, that I sat for this week is a distinct exception.

Flora is a sniffer and a deliberate marker too. She still doesn't out-do the male -Mackey of whom I wrote before, but she did her share of peeing when she was obviously just marking a spot and not only relieving herself.

So enough about the peeing and sniffing habits of dogs. Next thing you know I'll be talking about their poop habits too. I must be a REAL dog lover.

S

Marker Dogs

2008-08-28T11:20:00.004-07:00

In the course of my house sitting, I walk many different kinds of dogs. Boy dogs, girl dogs, big ones, small ones. It’s the boys that "mark" of course. Girls tend to just pee when they need, usually in the a.m. and nighttime. I have had one or two exceptions. Buffalo Jill, a large female Akita, would frequently sniff, scratch and pee along the arroyo path where we walked. Her housemate Buddy would then rush to discover the spot and of course lift his leg in the same place. She was obviously the leader.

An exception among the boys was Shadow. I’ve spoken of Shadow before and he is one of my favorite dogs for many reasons. Shadow is a black lab mix about 2 years old. He pees like a stallion and walks without sniffing or stopping for anything other than an occasional dump. When he pees (usually in the a.m. and at night) he stands with head and haunches stretched, nose pointing to the sky and relieves himself in copious amounts.
Among the natural markers, the boys, I’ve found variations as distinct as the dogs. This week, I’ve been with Friday, a lovely brown and white rat terrier. He is a marker dog par excellance! He stops. Sniffs positions. Resniffs, repositions, and finally (depending on how far into our walk we are) he lifts his leg as high as possible without falling over and then he drips a drop or two confident that he has left his mark for all to smell. Such bravado for such a small dog.
These marker dogs are often a frustration to me. I want to honor their natural needs of course. I also want them and myself to get exercise and with so many stops, I often feel I’ve lost the momentum needed to burn those hot chocolate calories.
The marker dogs are similar to, but separate from the "sniffer" dogs. Sniffer dogs smell and sniff each rock, bush, hydrant, and pole that the marker dogs mark. But, instead of marking, they seem to be content to imagine the previous visitor and you can almost see them imagining the dog or person, rat, bird, whatever had been in this spot before. Flora is such a sniffer dog. A female, she tends not to mark, but sniffs so many things she seems to know the story of what and who passed by just by the smell.

Would that we could do the same!

More About Mackey

2008-08-25T10:23:00.002-07:00

I always check with dogs' owners when I write about their dog(s) in my blog. Usually, they are delighted to see my stories and appreciate the spotlight on their dear friend.

When I wrote about Dogs and Rain, Mackey's owner sent me this interesting addition about him that I thought others would enjoy. Look for Mack's photo too.

One thing about Mack’s weather behavior that has always interested us is his ability to forecast a storm long before there is any local change in the weather. It can be a perfectly clear day, with blue skies and not a breath of wind, but Mack will sniff the air and sense something that will immediately trigger his nervousness. An hour or two later the storm will hit and he’s always 100% correct with his forecast!! Is it a change in the barometric pressure or in the atmospheric electrical charge that he detects? Or is it something else entirely beyond the limits of our human senses?

If I Could Be Just One More Thing

2008-08-03T09:31:00.005-07:00

If I could be just one more thing,
I'd like to be a dog.
With deep brown eyes and speckled paws,
with feathers in my tail.
I'd like to sniff the morning breeze and know who's passing by
I'd like to dig a hole for fun and feel the moist dark earth behind me fly
I'd like to be a dog,
and know a gentle hand upon my head
A hand that cares and keeps me close at night in bed.
I'd like to run and wag my tail to greet so many things.
And sniff another dog to see
if he is me or me is he.
I'd like to be a dog who sits outside and suns.
Who naps away the day and gobbles down my food.
I'd like that once or maybe twice,
but someday if I do,
I promise, friend,
we'll see the end
to hate and humans' cruel.

--

Dogs and Rain

2008-07-30T09:06:00.002-07:00

It’s monsoon season in Tucson. During the monsoon’s, Tucson gets heavy rains usually late in the afternoon, high winds and a lot of thunder and lightening. Rainy season in the desert is worth the trouble it brings.
So what if power lines go down and washes run so full cars can’t cross?So what if it stays muggy and hot and wet and smelly? It’s such a blessing for the desert to get rain and so many things come out like toads and bugs and little baby birds. We actually see more green after the rains.
For dogs, the monsoon season can mean fear and trauma. Many dogs are afraid of thunder. Most dogs get a bit upset with the barometric changes.
I’m taking care of two dogs this week. Both are different. Shadow, a black lab (and I suspect pit bull) mix is not necessarily afraid of thunder. But his housemate Mackey is. Shadow simply takes it all in stride. As long as you pay attention to him, play tug from time to time and feed him on time, he seems happy.
Mackey is a wonderful bearded collie. A big dog with long hair and beady little eyes. He shakes and shivers and climbs into bed with me at night when the thunder starts.
Mackey will jump and start at the slightest noise. When the neighbor slams his car door he runs and hides. Most loud noises bother him. But get him outside after a good rain and Mackey is in his element. He plows through the puddles and gets his coat and paws and belly wet until the hair hangs in tangles from his back. He seems to love the water.
Mackey explores and sniffs as he walks. He never seems to tire of finding a new rock to smell or another path to take.
Shadow, on the other hand. takes his walks by carefully skirting puddles or walking quickly through them as though he was a prancing horse. He normally walks in a straight line, with a steady pace, face forward seemingly able to go on forever. But after a rain, he gets thrown off course by the simplest of puddles.
Funny how dogs are different.

Has it really been this long?

2008-04-13T00:02:00.003-07:00

I am surprised to see how very long it's been since I made a post to this blog. There is a reason for this. i have not been as involved in my house sitting as I have been in the past. Oh, I'm still doing it, but it's main purpose feels as though it's been met.

I was however, reminded today of the reason I started this blog. It was because as I sat in the park, and looked at the light and felt the wonder of life, I remembered that "sitting with the dogs" began as an experience with a wonderful dog I sat with and watched the dusk settle. It seemed to me the dog was watching the light and I, well I was just enjoying the beauty of the light and then it occurred to me that was exactly what the dog was doing as well. And in that moment I felt connected to it all.

Since that time, I have sat with many of my dog wards during this magical time. They all do it the same. It is a special time for them as well as us. And so, the name for the blog and my eventual book easily became "Sitting with the Dogs" I'd love to hear your comments. Let me know your own stories with sitting with the dogs in what ever form that takes in your life.

Thanks

Sandy

Why I call it House Sitting and not Dog Sitting

2007-10-28T16:07:00.001-07:00

I find every house I stay in contributes something different. In one perhaps it is the color schemes or maybe "what NOT to do" or I find little conveniences like kitchen tools I’ve never seen, ways of arranging a cupboard, that kind of thing.
One home I go to is an absolute sanctuary! This house has consciousness all through it. There is not one nook or cranny that is not alive with thoughtful energy. Needless to say, there is no tv, the computer is conveniently put in a room by itself and clocks are at a minimum. There is a wonderful sound system and music is welcome in the space.
When ever I have stayed there, I am inspired to simplify even more in my own home and continue to clear and clean out clutter or extra "fuss" where it may exist. I personally am very visual with many pictures, small arrangements and colors throughout my living spaces. This home has all white walls, a clean but common cement floor throughout, no window dressings except one or two windows that need privacy and then, the window is simply blocked with small Venetian blinds that allow the light through when they are open. There are no pictures or images on the walls anywhere. Bookcases are simple and well arranged, some are empty. The storage spaces are a thing of beauty with open spaces and never one inch of clutter. The entire house creates a visual pleasure just through the placement of objects and furniture. The use of natural fabrics and foods throughout the house adds to the effect. I feel very stimulated and calmed at the same time when I stay there.
By contrast, I once sat at a home that had not only clutter and "things" placed on every available space, it was bulging at the seams with hidden possessions crammed into every possible closet, bookcase storage box or untility room. This house functioned, however; and the dogs didn’t seem to mind. Everyone had their own space to sit, sleep and eat including me. Yet I was never at ease and found I could only walk from one small open space to another. Needless to say, I watched a lot of tv at that house.
Many homes I’ve visited had large elegant rooms, ornate or expensive looking furniture and lovely views. I can enjoy these places, but always find there is one room where I tend to "live" besides the necessity of a bedroom. The kitchen of course is always a functional space in most homes and I gain pleasure from using then keeping kitchens just as the owners left them. I have my favorites of course. Some kitchens are so huge I feel I’m swallowed up in them a nd can’t really get a comfortable meal made without an effort. Almost everyone keeps their utensils in a similar way and I can usually find whatever I need. I do use their cooking pans and dish soap, that kind of thing, but always bring my own food, store and stay contained with boxes and refrigerator space. That way, when I leave, I can be sure I get myself taken out of their personal spaces. Still, there are times I forget one or two items.
Usually, I forget a small food item in the frig, or perhaps a bathroom supply like shampoo or mouthwash. It’s always a source of irritation to me when I do that and I often chastise myself for it until I remember I too, am human.
The most important thing, of course is that I take care of the dogs in the manner to which they are accustomed and that actually, I do sitting with the dogs and not housesitting. Still, I call it housesitting. I pick up the mail, take out the trash, vacuum the floors when I leave and keep the sinks clean. I maintain a presence at the home so any possible "thief" would not consider staking out the place as empty. Also, as the responsible person for the dogs and for the house, I make it a point (I think I’ve mentioned this earlier) to not go out at night. There are exceptions of course, but I take the responsibility of house sitting (think dog sitting) seriously. Many of my friends would say too seriously, but I think it is simply a matter of doing a job well.

Why I call it sitting with the dogs
Wind is calm now, and the moon has been nearly full each night. My evening hours outside have been delightful. The dogs and I like to sit and watch the sun go down, then wait as the long dusk settles. They gather next to me and we sit silently watching as the light changes around us. Very sweet.
The quiet compainionship with dogs

Dogs For All Seasons - Summer in Tucson

2007-09-24T18:56:00.000-07:00

In the Summer, very few dogs stay outside during the day in my part of the country. They go out to pee and poop and even daily walks are almost always taken in the early morning hours as daytime is very hot and dusk is too warm for exercise. Frequently, snakes can be a problem.

Yet, one house where I sat was different. The dogs had a very large flat backyard, landscaped with stones, rocks and various desert plants. This was a home with two lovely energetic rat terriers. Paul, the male and Tina, the female. Those two little beings kept such good company and I enjoyed them the entire time I stayed there. But they could stay out doors all day in the Summer if wanted. I was concerned at first when their owners told me the dogs stayed in the back yard while both of them went off to work. But, soon found out that Paul and Tina did in fact enjoy the heat and seemed none the worse for wear. We would often sit in the back porch patio. Paul would patrol the perimeter of the walled yard, and Tina would stick close by me, wathcing the silly boy swagger around the yard.

I'd throw a ball for Tina. Quick as a flash she'd run after it out into the blazing sun. She was fast and loved retreiving. Her stubby tail would wag appreciatively and I felt blessed by her presence. But the heat never seemed to bother either one, and I too enjoyed a more natural way of enjoying the Summer.

Sometimes the three of us would go on an adventure together. They would follow me around while I watered the many palnts or hang up the fresh washed laundry. We all participated in dragging out the hose and spraying the sparkly drops around. The dogs played in the spray and seemed non the worst for wear. When I'd hang laundry, Paul and Tina watched my every move. I talked to them as an old friend would and we had a good time together.

At night, I'd drag one of the doggie beds into the bedroom, prepare myself for sleep while Paul and Tina watched me. Neither dog was willing to retire until I did. Then, once I was settled down, Tina would tunnel under the soft Summer sheets and Paul would burrow down into his blanketed doggie bed.

I learned later that rat terriers, chiuahuas and dashhunds all love to tunnel.

It was mid-Summer, Monsoon Season in Tucson and different dogs experience that phenonenom differently too. I sat for a storm adverse Laorador Retreiver during the monsoon season. This dog would not even go out of doors if the weather began to change and the clouds started rolling in. If thishappened, midway into our walk, He would turn around and there was no arguing with him. He was going home. His anxiety was so server he would dig in the corner of a closet or behind a chair so frantically, I could barely get him to stop.

I wound up sitting with him in a windowless laundry room, on the floor with the dryer going. I stroked him and reassured him while he stuck his nose betwen the washer and dryer. If the storm came at night, I would turn the tuv up, and talked to him for as long as he might need. Sometimes it worked, and we were able to forget the storm. Most of the time, he was shaking and panting the entire time.

If I left his side, he would immediately get more agitated and begin digging somewhere. My heart went out to him and I realized how important my job really was. Of course, the owners took him to a vet and he did receive a sedative for those times, but it was not enough and you really can't give a dog too much of such a medicine.

Close Calls and Harrowing Moments

2007-09-11T03:05:00.000-07:00

When you house sit for dogs (and cats) it is a responsibility no less important than babysitting for a child. The owners of an animal are attached, dependent upon and definitely concerned for their dogs' safety and health and happiness. In fact, many consider themselves mommy and/or daddy. So I keep some iron clad policies.

1. Never leave the animals at night unless absolutely necessary and then for a limited period of time. (Daytime trips to the store, coffee dates, and various errands are ok under the time limits of what the owners say the pets can be left. In my experience this has varied from never to eight hours)

2 Keep to the animals scheduled feeding, nap, walk and bedtimes. This also helps with them staying happier and less stressed. The owners always notice when they come back that their “babies” are happier.

3 Be sure and get the name of the vet, emergency rooms and other contacts in case of emergency. Clients are always good about leaving this information

As you can see, I hold my responsibilities as important. After all, I am getting paid and much depends on the satisfaction of my clients.

You can imagine, then, when or if something happens to go wrong, what a stress it can be. Let me site just a few such “close calls and harrowing moments”.

GRACIE

Some dogs, Gracie the greyhound, being one of them, need to be let out at night on a regular basis. It’s not my favorite thing to do, wake up in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning, but I do it, let the dog do it’s duty and then stumble back to my cozy (or the client's cozy) bed and wait for them to wake me again for the morning walk, usually at 5:30 a.m.

One such night, I was awakened by Gracie not just rattling her chain collar to politely inform me “I must go outside now”, but to the retching and gagging noises that could only mean she was ill.

She was at the door, throwing up all over the rug and obviously very sick. When I turned on the light to my horror, the mess was bright red!!! Blood!!! How and what could that mean?? I was terrified. I let Gracie outside and tried to clean up the vomit. It was terrible. My heart began to race as I went over all the alternatives in my mind. Her owner was on a cruise. Difficult to reach. It was about 2:00 a.m. a bad time to call the vet, but I decided I should do that first.

I let Gracie in fully expecting her to collapse at my feet from some kind of internal bleeding. Instead, she trotted back to her doggie bed and calmly laid down as normal as could be.

Maybe I should observe her for awhile before I called the vet, I thought. I began to compose the message in my head. “I was awakened. . . she lapsed into a coma . . . her breathing is shallow . . . “ Of course none of these things were true except the telltale red stain on the rug and more vomit in the patio, also pinkish red.

Then I remembered. Her owner had left some pork for her to eat. It was left over from a bar b que they’d had the night before they left. She had mentioned. “I put some rub on it, but I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”

By this time, Gracie was sound asleep. She looked normal, a happy, healthy dog. Her nose was not dry, her breathing was regular. My frantic messages to owners and vets began to subside in my head. When I went to the refrigerator to look at the bagged pork, sure enough, even though it’d been cut up there was a reddish crusty look to several of the pieces. I explored further and found the rub in the cupboard. Papricka and of all things chili powder!! No wonder poor Gracie was sick.

Still, it was frightening while it lasted and I thanked the powers that be for sparing me the nasty task of telling the owners. Your dog died on my watch!

PACO

Another time I was certain I would have to tell an owner that her dog died on my watch involved Poco, the Chihuahua. We live in the Southwest, and there coyotes, scorpions and rattlesnakes are always possible dangers. On this particular evening, Poco and his den mates Friday and Ollie (two rat terriers) woke me again about 1:10 a.m. asking to go out. They were insistent with barks and much commotion. It wasn’t until I’d opened the front door to the fenced yard that I remembered – Coyotes!!!!

I immediately called the dogs to come back. Poco and Friday were frantically barking now at the far Southeast corner of the property, just where coyotes had a path from the wash behind the house to the rest of the neighborhood. Ollie dutifully came back expecting a treat, I’m sure, but Friday continued his barking only this time, Poco’s voice was not heard.

I immediately panicked. I remembered the owner had said not to let them out at night in the front. I’d done the unthinkable and I was certain poor little Poco had been taken by a fierce coyote who’d jumped the fence and grabbed the tasty little morsel.

Still, Friday continued to bark and not one sound from Poco. I was desperate now. I called loudly not caring it was early morning and the neighbors might be disturbed. Friday eventually came back, but no Poco.

I searched the house for a flashlight, cursing the fact I hadn’t asked about them before. It was dark out there even with the front porch light on and I wasn’t willing to go out until I’d dressed and put on a pair of shoes. I called and called for Poco as I maneuvered the rocky, naturally landscaped front year. I fully expected to find his little dead body or some telltale signs of his abduction. Nothing.

Sadly, with pounding heart I considered the options. This client had gone to attend a funeral of her younger brother and was in Indiana, two hours ahead of Arizona. I realized I was going to have to call her out of bed to tell her not only had she lost her brother, but she’d lost her dear little Poco too. And I was to blame!

It was one of the worst moments of my life. As I turned back to go into the house to make the phone call, there was little Poco sitting at the front door waiting to be let in. I felt relief like when one of my children had run out in the street and I was able to grab them before a car hit them. I was so relieved, but angry at the upset I’d just experienced. One more time, I had thought I’d have to tell someone their dog died on my watch.

FLORA

A sweeter dog than Flora I don’t know. She is obedient, loyal, happy and very, very cute. I don’t know her breed, she is one of those non-descript mixed breeds that works. Not a large dog, but not a miniature. A brown honey colored short haired lovely.

She also is one of those dogs who has to go out in the middle of the night and I could set my clock by her waking me at 2:15 a.m. each night. In her case, the spot to go pee was outside the fenced yard, and very dark as the house was in a natural area and private. I kept a flashlight near by and always leashed her as the owner’s had told me to.

This night, we went out as usual and she obediently went to her spot to do her business. Coming back to the house, she stopped and froze next to a patch of aloe and cactus. In another second she lunged, I saw the rattler poised and ready to strike and all in that same instance, I pulled her back away out of range. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t believe it had happened at all. We ran back into the house. .As I relived the experience, it seemed a miracle she wasn’t bitten. But there we were safe and sound, back in bed none the worse for wear. The rattler was never seen again, and the owners did not have to be called to learn their precious dog was a goner.

Thoughts about Dogs as a Species

2007-05-30T08:30:00.000-07:00

This came to me on the airplane flying from Seattle to LA, My computer was in the upper container and I was not willing to drag it out just to capture the thoughts. So, I've decided to put down what I remember those thoughts to be. I'd been reading Dog’s Mind by Bruce Fogle. This is what I was thinking:
I have always been fascinated by human behavior. That fascination has manifested in my life through, careers, relationships and personal growth work. When I began sitting with the dogs I also became fascinated with canine behavior and to a lesser extent feline behavior. Putting the two together was a natural progression.
For years I’d heard and seen that dogs and their owners look alike. My own personal experience of this phenomena was less grounded in fact than in observation. I did find some physical similarities at least half the time, and in my unscientific way, I tucked the information away for retrieval at another time. It was fun observing dogs and their owners at parks, on the city streets and naturally in the home as I began my house sitting career. (I was beginning to think of it more and more as a career and less as an income producing activity.) The observation of similarities in physical characteristics , emotional and behavioral characteristics were an integral part of my “job”.
Here is what I found in a very simple generalized way.
Overly nervous or anxious owners produced overly anxious and nervous dogs.
Strong independent owners produced well behaved and frequently self contained dogs.
Fat people had fat dogs
Eating disorders in people lead to eating disorders in dogs
Insecure women used dogs as emotional crutches
Many men were affectionate with small dogs contrary to the prevailing attitude that men and dogs should be the strong silent types.
Boring people had boring dogs
The drama and anxiety around a poorly behaved dog was frequently a way for an owner to remain a victim in life.

It wasn’t long before I began to generalize that almost all dog behavior was a reflection of owner’s behavior. It was about this time that I began to watch the “Dog Whisperer” and to read a few of the classic dog behavior books. Some of my favorites were “Year in the Life of a Dog” an elegantly written, soulful book about the strong bond between owner and his dogs, in this case golden retrievers.
I also read my very first book on dog behavior and browsed through many more. some gave good information, most reiterated the others. When I felt I'd absorbed enough information, I practiced with some of the dogs I sat with.

My first real insight came to me that no matter what the breed, a dog was a dog. The smallest Yorkie and the biggest Akita had more in common than their size indicated. Of course there were natural personalities and preferences as in any individual. The variables of breed, owner and environment, contributed to these individual differences in much the same way our own heredity and environment contributes to our. Yes, I knew it made a difference if the dog was large or small, it was a dog. A species in the same way we humans are a species.

Me and Dogs

2007-05-30T08:02:00.000-07:00

It was after sitting with Sasha and Seiga, the standard and toy poodles, that I realized I could have a profound effect on a dog just by my presence and actions. Their owners were delighted when they returned from their three week trip to Africa to find not only was Sasha well and happy, she had begun to play more, she looked alert and she was less anxious than previously.
Of course, some of that has to be attributed to the fact that my job was to tend to the dogs, that my first priority was always their care and attention. They in fact, received more care from me than their owners might not have at their disposal, with busy lifes and the durgery of everyday doggie duties.
But then I heard comments like, “Oh, he never approaches a new person like that,he must really like you” or “ She just layed down and fell asleep while you were there, that’s unheard of for her.”.When I made my initial visits prior to sitting for a family for the first time it was a frequent experience to hear these comments.
I was fascinated by how and why that would be. Did I have an effect on the animals or on the owners or both? I suspected it was both.
I knew from my years as a Human Resource professional and as a therapist that I did in fact have an effect on people. I was energetically involved in life at all times, and I knew that others were drawn to me for that reason. I began to think this is what life is for. To be all that we can, whenever and where ever we can. Dogs and people sense that because the dogs like what they can understand and people yearn for the same thing. At least that's my thoughts on the subject.

My Favorite Dog

2007-01-02T02:08:00.000-07:00

Earlier I posted "Every Dog is My Favorite Dog" (see November 2006). A friend suggested I use that for my "book" if I ever write it. I'll consider it, but it's really more about sitting with the dogs, the experience, and the impact on my life.

Here then, is another "My Favorite Dog" story.

I frequently sit with a threesome of small dogs Clancey, Toby and Casey. Each is unique of course and all three make for a lively pack. This story is about Clancey, the West Highland Terrier (Westie) who is the oldest of the three. Clancey is a compact, determined little guy. He needs carrying up stairs to the dogs' sleeping quarters every night as his little legs can't manage the big stone stairs in the house where he lives. I lift him into my arms and the two other little dogs dance and prance up to the laundry room where they all sleep in their cages.

Clancey endures this transport with dignity and with no sign of protest. Once at the top of the stairs, he calmly slips from my arms and slowly follows the other two into the room for the night.

But this story is about a daytime event. I had gone out briefly to grocery shop and took a side trip to one of my favorite consignmnet stores,. It’s closer here than from my house so it was a treat to go. I bought a few things and since I kept my purchases on the hangers and as a convenience, the check-out clerk put them in a plastic garment bag. I brought it in on my return to the house and hung it on one of the towel hooks in the bathroom. Didn’t think about them again.

After dinner, as is usual, Toby was sitting with me on the chair, Casey was curled up on the floor and Clancey was in the bedroom where he prefers to go from time to time. I think he misses his owners.

All of a sudden Clancey barked sharply. At first I thought it was just a little alarm -- “a bird is outside” or “I heard a car too close” bark. Then it got frantic and didn’t stop. Well, we were all on our feet in a flash, and raced into the bedroom. Every imaginable scenario was going through my head. A coyote outside on the patio? A burglar? A snake in the bathtub or shower? What else could it possibly be?

Of course, it was the garment bag. He evidently had wandered into the dark bathroom and was surprised to find what he thought was an intruder. What a great watchdog he is!!!

I laughed and laughed, but was definitely relieved, turned on the light, showed him the bag, and we all resumed our evening.

What About My House

2006-12-28T01:10:00.000-07:00

"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

2006-12-20T05:03:00.000-07:00

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

2006-11-12T19:53:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-18T14:13:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

The Beginning of Dog Conversations

2006-10-16T15:59:00.000-07:00

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.