seeing things with Sadie

Some animals I meet stay in my heart long after their need for my care is over. I can't say exactly why. I love all of the animals I see (well, maybe there have been a couple I could have done without), but we all have our favorites, no matter how awful that is to admit. There is just this different kind of bond that occurs with some. Sadie is one of those for me. She passed away some time ago, but I truly think of her every day.

Sadie was an eleven-year-old Shar-pei when her parents, June and Ron, called upon me to care for her while they would go out of town. Their home was perfectly kept, save for a border of dots and smears about a foot and a half up the wall all around their home. They were the markings Sadie made with her nose as she navigated her surroundings. Sadie was blind.

Sadie's dad, Ron, told me about how they were reluctant to take Sadie on when they first saw her, and she wasn't blind then. They were not considering another pet at the time. Isn't that how it always goes? Ron and June gave in to Sadie's charms when some friends brought her to them as a six-week-old puppy. "That night little Sadie just snuggled up to June and did not want to leave," Ron recalled. "We figured this was an omen and agreed to make her part of our family."

Ron explained that though Sadie was "truly a great dog and caused very little problems," there was that one incident with his father's toupée. Oh, and a separate incident with a bag of Hershey's Kisses. She was special, but not immune to common canine temptations.

Sadie acquired SARDS and lost her eyesight rapidly. She learned to swim out of necessity, after falling in the pool on several occasions. She adapted to new surroundings after a couple of moves, but when the family moved to Estrella, "she was very disoriented most of the time. Sometimes she couldn't find her way out and had to relieve herself inside. Other times she did find her way out, but could not find her way back in, and the 100+ degree weather would just wear her out," reflected Ron. "After two months of watching her fade...we decided that the best thing would be to put her down." Ron and June stayed with her until after she took her final breath. Her ashes were scattered in a field in northern Arizona amongst the flowers "where she could chase butterflies until we join her."

When I first met Sadie, I didn't think we'd connect very well. There was no sparkle in her eyes that happy, excited dogs usually get when they meet me. No panting, toothy smile. Just a droopy head and sad face. I thought she was smart and brave, but cautious. She knew where to find her food and water and where her doggie door was. She knew where the main pieces of furniture were, and she could navigate mostly without bumping into much, though it would make me sad if she'd miss a doorway or get stuck in a corner, confused, which would happen on occasion. And I would feel terribly guilty if I pulled a chair out to sit and saw her bump into it.

Sadie taught me how to interact with her, and every time I was with her, I learned a bit more. She loved to be pet, but a sudden pat on the head could be quite startling for her because she couldn't see it coming. I learned that if I told her I was going to pet her, she wouldn't flinch quite as bad, and if I kept my hand in contact with her, she quite enjoyed the attention.

Sadie knew where the furniture was, but she didn't always know where I was, so I learned to talk to her as I went about my business of filling her water bowl or scooping her poop in the back yard. That way, she could stand securely next to me and enjoy the company rather than be apprehensive about the possibility of bumping into me. I'd sound pretty silly chattering on about nothing, but we all act embarrassingly silly around our pets, right? RIGHT? Well, Sadie liked it, anyway.

She knew exactly where her doggie door was. Right next to the master bedroom slider. I would exit out the slider to clean the yard and hang out in the sun with her. Although I'd open the glass door wide and call to her, an opportunity not to be missed by a sighted dog, she'd still use her doggie door, a behavior of hers that always made me giggle.

She seemed to like me more and more as the months passed. She relaxed around me. And though I never saw that happy smile I longed for, she just seemed warmer, like she was smiling on the inside.

My main challenge with Sadie became filling the time. My pet sitting visits are about an hour in length, time usually spent taking a walk or playing fetch, activities too challenging for Sadie's condition. So I started bringing whatever novel I was reading at the time, and I'd sit and pet her while I read. I noticed that once I became quiet, stopping my chatter to read, Sadie would lose interest in me and wander off to be alone. But there's only so much you can chat about with a dog. So I started reading to her. I'd sit on the floor and start reading my book out loud. Instead of wandering off, She'd cock her head to the side and settle in next to me, sometimes even putting her head in my lap. The best way I can describe the experience is bonding. Just simple bonding. That type of intimacy is pretty special.

I often think of these reading times with Sadie. She didn't seem to have a preference for fiction or nonfiction. She didn't mind crude humor or historical diatribes. She liked it all, as long as she could hear me. Sometimes, now, when I sit down with a good book, I think of Sadie and wish her sweet little wrinkled head would be there to lay my hand upon and not let go.

what's grosser than gross?

You want to know the dirt, right? People ask me about what crazy clients I've had or if I've ever been bitten, or whose house is the filthiest. It's true that I've "seen it all." When enough time passes and I don't name names, these things become stories of lore. So let me tell you about the grossest job I ever did.

Pet sitters often network and get to know one another and sometimes rely upon each other in times of need. Many several of few years ago in a land far, far away and gone, one of my colleagues/competitors explained that she was "beyond fully booked" for the weekend, and could I care for a couple of dogs for her. It was a long-standing client of hers, and it would be easy, she assured me.

This is different than a referral. She wasn't offering the client to me, just asking me to be an "employee for a day," kind-of taking away the beauty of self-employment. I was happy to do it. Put in a good deed for someone, and it might one day come back to you, right?

Long story short: Two sweet, delightful Scottish Terriers, each in their own crate when no one is around, released upon my arrival, and tucked back in to cozy upon my departure. I was informed that they could sometimes have nervous tummies when their owners were away. Well, who doesn't? The standard wait-time for eating in nervous-bellied pooches is three days. They drink, they eat treats, and they survive until the third day, when they decide they want to live to see their family return and give in to the kibble. Textbook.

The first time I entered the home, I was startled by the unmistakable odor of uncontrolled, explosive, liquid poo. The sight was far beyond what I'd imagined in my nightmares. Each dog was frantic, friendly and excited to meet me, yet, alarmed, splashing around in a pond of their own excrement, with a pattern of crusty fireworks on the white wall just behind them. Clearly, I hadn't been given the full story about these cases of "nervous tummies," and, certainly, these dogs had been carefully selected for me as the créme de la créme of jobs to pass along to gullible competitors.

I spent the next two hours bathing the dogs, laundering their bedding, and hosing off their crates. I, of course, let my "boss" know, and requested that she inform her client that her animals were quite ill. I doubt that she did, as my concerns were promptly ignored, and I was told that all of this was quite normal. I, too, had to be disinfected...legs scrubbed free of graffiti left by happy paws. Best not to go into detail.

For the next four days, the dogs' situation was much the same. I felt awful for them, but also became resentful and curious as to why such a problem was passed on to me, and, even more so, why my "boss" had no desire to check on them herself. Maybe that's a story for another time.

Don't worry. The dogs lived and fared well. My lesson was learned. I experienced what is grosser than gross, and, that, I must censor for your own good. To put on a positive spin, the dogs and I certainly bonded. I think I perhaps provided the best care they had ever received.

So you ask about gross? All I could do was use it as a learning experience. Don't pet sit for competitors' clients. Always have direct contact with pet parents. Know that "nervous tummy" is a cute euphemism. Love the animals, no matter what (they actually enjoy nine bubble baths in four days). And always know where your nearest barf bag is.

Oh, and when the client tells you that he'd like to hire you for future visits because you did much, much better than the pet sitter they hired in the first place, take the high road and teach him a thing or two about loyalty.

a day at the Phoenix Pet Expo

The aroma of churros and dog poop guided us to the family fun at  the Phoenix Pet Expo at the University of Phoenix Stadium. The littles were impressed with the scale of the building and number of well-behaved pets before we even entered the gates. Once we did, we were corralled down a long winding ramp, since no dogs were allowed on the escalators, naturally. My dog, N.A.S.H.A., is a bit of a nut case, so I borrowed a better-behaved client's dog, instead.

Parking and admission were free. Sweet! Once inside, we were overwhelmed by the scale of the event. There were over 200 vendors and rescue groups in attendance.

Our borrowed pooch was a bit of a snob about the drooly community water bowls and wading pools, but it was nice that these things were provided. They even had several designated potty areas, complete with real grass, waste bags, and trash cans.

We made some new friends.

The littles had the opportunity to meet some exotic pets, too, including a boa constrictor, which they weren't shy at all about petting. When your mom is a pet sitter and you get to take care of all sorts of animals, you get pretty brave at a young age.

The booths had a lot going on to attract us to their wares and causes. We learned about some new and amazing products that I'll share with you soon. Po, my six-year-old son, brought one dollar from his piggy bank and agonized about what to spend it on. He finally decided that he and his sister would donate it for a chance to spin the Pet Club wheel of fortune to win some treats for the pooches in their lives.

Porter won some Nylabone NutriDent dental chews, and Cam won some Natural Balance Tillman's Treats.

The littles' favorite activity was the "For the Love of My Pet" booth, which had many free activities for them to participate in. The kids each created their own dog puppets with help from Owen Burgess, author of For the Love of My Pet.

We all enjoyed watching demonstrations in agility, flyball, and dock diving.

There was just so much to do at the Phoenix Pet Expo! Though we resisted adopting a new family member, the event would have been a wonderful setting in which to do so, with so many animals in need of homes. If you are an animal lover or are looking for a free day of fun for your kids, I would highly recommend attending next year's Phoenix Pet Expo.  Just watching the pets in attendance stroll by was a treat in itself!

tails on trails today: who's guiding whom?

When I began Well Minded, I envisioned it primarily as a pet sitting business, but I didn't want to close myself off. I'm an entrepreneur and an adventurer at heart, so I didn't want to discount the possibility of going into training or grooming, both of which I have come to learn are not my strengths. Although I like to try lots of things, I recognize my weaknesses and try to focus elsewhere. I'm good at caring for animals. I love to hike. It's an activity I took up only after moving to AZ. There are countless trails in Phoenix, and my favorite local spot is South Mountain. I recently decided to combine my love of hiking and my love of animals. I started "Tails on Trails," small-group hikes for dogs. Once a week, I pick up dogs, drive them to the trails, provide secure leashes, water, poop bags, and post-hike pictures to my clients so they can see our adventures.

Though we've had other dogs sometimes join the ranks, today it was just me and my two really regular regulars. They have been to every hike since the start, and we definitely have a multifaceted bond. When I arrive for pick-up, the brown one goes ape-shit. The black one is calm, yet welcoming. Both are SO excited that I'm there, and they know why I'm there. They enjoy the car ride to the trails. When we first hit the dirt, they go, then sniff. Mark. Walk. Trot. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Mark. And then I tell them "that's enough," and they seem to understand that though there will be countless animal smells, excrement aromas, and tiny fast-moving reptiles, birds, and small mammals to grasp their attentions and snap their necks in this direction and that, we're there to hike. And hiking means moving. So then about five minutes in, we get into our groove. And then they go poop. And then we get going, for reals.

While they get over all of that, I'm making sure the leash isn't cutting my wrist in the wrong place, my phone (for camera access) is in the most strategic pocket, and that my underwear isn't riding in the wrong spot since we're in it for the long haul. When we hit our stride, and we're all in sync, I feel like something was meant to be. The dogs start to pick up the pace, and so do I. They navigate the trail beautifully, and I pick my footing as if I had instinct for the thing. We do this jog/walk/hike thing that feels good. Just as I notice a nice view, they slow down, as if they recognize something to be seen beyond the dusty trail their noses run along. And they show me details in the path.