Lost & FOUND Hounds

 

At least once or twice a year, I find myself playing amateur detective when I come across a dog that has Houdini’d its way out of the house. Thankfully, I have a knack for figuring out where these escape artists live—either by leashing them and letting them lead me home like a four-legged GPS or by asking passersby if they recognize the furry fugitive.

Most of the time, the owners never even know their little explorer took an unauthorized field trip. I’ll just herd them back through an open gate and close it tight. Sometimes, I find a front door flung wide open, shuffle Fido back inside like a personal valet at a doggy nightclub, and shut the door. And no one knows because I leave like a pet-sitting Ninja. 

I just want to make sure these lost hounds are found before they end up on a "missing" poster. I'd like to think of myself as the Gabi Moseley for dogs. Only I don't have an evil dog locked up in my basement to help me solve cases.

Your Dog is Not a Ming Dynasty Emperor: The Perils of Long Nails

 

 

One of my responsibilities as a professional pet sitter and dog walker is keeping an eye out for signs of illness, behavioral changes, and anything out of the ordinary and yes, including the consistency of your pet’s elimination (glamorous, I know). But the most common issue I see? Nails.

I often find myself telling clients that it might be time for a trim. Because unless their dog is auditioning for the role of a Ming Dynasty emperor, those claws need to go. Overgrown nails aren’t just a minor cosmetic issue; they can lead to serious discomfort, joint pain, and misaligned toes. Plus, if your dog is slipping and sliding across hardwood floors like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, it’s time to grab the clippers.

Long nails change how dogs walk, forcing them to shift their weight awkwardly, which can eventually lead to arthritis or joint issues. And if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of an overgrown paw slap, you already know the dangers firsthand.

So do your pup a favor, get those nails trimmed. Because trust me, the only thing worse than a dog with long nails is the grimace on your face when they use you as a launchpad! 😬

Angry Villagers!

 

I'm a pet parent and I'd like to think I have a healthy level of concern for my pets when I'm traveling and my pet sitter is taking care of them. Most of my clients express healthy levels of concern as well. But every so often I get a Helicopter Pet Parent. This is the pet parent that trusts you enough to pet sit their fuzzy babies, but not enough to where they are calling you once, twice, thrice even four times to check on Fluffy.

I was booked for Overnights and midday dog walks for "Fido." I arrived on my third night with Fido. After our evening walk, my phone died so I plugged it in. I prepared myself and Fido for bed. I was fresh out of the shower and in my jammies when I heard loud banging at the door! It was Angry Villagers with their torches and pitchforks demanding my head! Actually it was neighbors armed with smart phones and flashlights.

I was pissed and scared but mostly pissed, and answered in an aggressive tone, "CAN I HELP YOU?!" The neighbors were called by my client and ordered to storm the castle and knock on the door because I wasn't answering my phone...which was dead! 

The neighbors asked if I could open the door, probably so they could burn me at the stake. "Hell no!" I didn't say that, but I told them I wasn't comfortable with that since I didn't know who they were and my insurance policy states that blah, blah, blah...and told them I'd call the client myself. "Goodnight!" How you gone send Angry Villagers over to storm the castle because you haven't heard from me since my last update which was 2 hours ago?! 

I called the client back after missing their several calls and texts, because my phone was dead and politely explained to them that if they didn't trust me, that I had no problem helping them find another qualified sitter.

Poor 'Fido' was the Esmeralda to my Quasimodo, I was one bell tower short of a complete reenactment. Thankfully, no torches or stakes were needed. The Angry Villagers retreated, the client calmed down, and this Quasimodo lived to see another day. Unlike Victor Hugo’s novel which is just utterly sad and depressing. YAY!

Controlled KAOS!

 

 When it comes to home security, I like to think of myself as the Maxwell Smart of pet sitting. I maintain a healthy sense of urgency. Some might call it paranoia, but I call it common sense. I lock my doors after entering my apartment. At night I close my window coverings. During warmer months, I'll keep my windows open but close and lock them before going to bed. I have security gates at both front and back doors. I feel very secure with my Get Smart level of security.

Some clients however, do not share the same level of urgency. They are completely satisfied with leaving doors, windows and anything else that gives access to the inside of their home unlatched like they're living in Canada. Some refuse to draw their window coverings or have none at all, unfazed by the fact that any and everybody can peer in to catch a glimpse of their seemingly controlled lives. Their level of trust in humanity is staggering.

When I'm on an Overnight visit, I channel my inner Agent #99 and do a perimeter sweep locking every window, every door and drawing any window covering that's available. 

I was once offered to stay in a client's lovely guest house complete with it's own little kitchen, bathroom and bed area. The problem? I was surrounded by three walls of windows with ZERO blinds or curtains! I was not up for offering free OnlyFans content. It would've been painstakingly pedestrian, at best, anyway. Needless to say I camped out in the living room with one wall of windows which hovered above eye level. Not 100% happy, but it will do.

Another time I did an overnight in a guest bedroom with again...zero window coverings. But the few windows were small enough where I fashioned makeshift curtains out of my clothes. From Get Smart to MacGyver. I have to Control the KAOS somehow.

A client of mine warned me that there had been a series of break-ins in their neighborhood and asked me to make sure I locked the door behind me after entering the home. I'm not a rookie agent! Of course I'm going to lock the door. Not only do I value your pet's safety, but because frankly I value my life! 

What clients do in their homes is their business. They can whoop it up and live freely like it's the roaring '20's without a care in the world. But when I’m there, I’m the Agent on duty, enforcing modern-day security measures one locked latch at a time. And if real chaos comes calling, thank goodness I don't have to use my shoe to call Agent 911.

Petanormal Activity!

 

As a pet sitter, I’ve encountered my share of surprises; chewed up furniture, tinkle accidents and a cat that pulled a ‘Shawshank’ by knocking out her entire locked cat door! She never made it to Mexico cause I had treats.

But nothing compares to the two times I’ve walked into a client’s home, only to be greeted by...Bed Ghosts aka Unexpected Guests! It’s extremely traumatizing calling for a pet when what I thought was a lumpy unmade bed starts moving! I scream. They scream. And there are no frozen treats involved! 

I don’t ask no questions, I don’t wait for an explanation. I’m running out the door like the Final Girl in a horror film. Instead of calling for help I’m calling the client asking, “WTF?!” Ok, maybe not those words, but with that intent.

Before every ‘meet & greet’, I make it crystal clear: if anyone has access to the house, I need to know. Who, when, why; just give me the scoop. It’s a simple ask! During the ‘meet & greet’ I ask again, “Are you expecting anyone? Does anyone else have access?” And yet, on two separate occasions, I’ve found myself haunted by the aforementioned bed dwellers.

I’m here to care for your fuzzy babies, not navigate close encounters with surprise house guests. It’s bad for my blood pressure. Unlike Ray Parker, Jr. I am definitely afraid of ghosts – especially human ones hiding your sheets.

Detestable Retractable!

 

Every pet owner has their own preferred method of walking/transporting their pet - leashes, carriers, backpacks, strollers, pneumatic tubes (just kidding, but honestly that's next). All of that's fine. I'll walk or transport their pet however the client wants.

BUT! And this is a big but, metaphorically - not my own; I will not use a retractable leash. A retractable leash is an accident waiting to happen. In fact I'm pretty sure that's on the label. "Walk your dog with the new Accident Waiting to Happen!"

If your dog gets too far ahead, the car backing out of the driveway won't see Fido. Sure you can push the button to stop the pup. But now the retractable has become a medieval garrote and folks will be wondering what kind of mob ties the dog had or if the mailman had finally had enough!

Not only that, the handle can easily slip away from you, hit the ground and clickety-clack against the pavement and scare the dog into taking off like Usain Bolt. And suddenly you're wondering what your next job is going to be because the client is gone tell 'erbody you lost their dog. And ain't nobody gonna hire the Dog Loser!

That's why I always keep a spare non-retractable leash in my bag. And when I gently inform the client that I will not be using their retractable leash, I make it clear that it's about safety. Am I a leash snob? Perhaps. But most professional pet sitters who have been in this game a while, won't use retractable leashes either. 

A little snobbery goes a long way. The client will be happy and they will still have their dog intact after I walk them...unless they've already been neutered [enter rim shot here].

The Fellowship Of The Hoarders!

The occasions on which I’ve had to pass on a client are few and far between. It takes a lot for me to say, ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ Even if I know a client might be difficult, I’ll take them on and add the DCT later (Difficult Client Tax). 

However, the rare exceptions share one key trait: hoarding. The first giveaway is always the same: “Oh it’s never like this. I just haven’t had a chance to clean up.” Really? You haven’t had a chance in the past...20 years?

One client’s hallway was barely passable, lined with cans of unidentifiable chemicals. Could’ve been paint, could’ve been plutonium. My first thought wasn’t how to take care of her cat. It was, “I don’t want to die in this hallway!” Her cat, bless its soul, had adapted to its environment; much like the dogs of Chernobyl.

Then there was the couple whose home was so overcrowded I couldn’t even see the floor. Somewhere beneath the mountains of clothes, magazines, and questionable knick-knacks were two cats - allegedly. I never saw them. I politely decline clients like this and explain that ‘I don’t think I’m the right fit for you.’

I get it. Life happens. Right now my own closet looks like Sauron’s give-a-way bag. But when the passageways in your home look like you’re on a journey to Mordor, it might be time to call a professional (and I don’t mean me).

As a pet sitter, I’m here to care for your fuzzy babies. Part of that care means ensuring I can safely navigate the space to not only find your 'precious' fuzzy baby, but to ensure their safety as well. Because if I have to bring a GPS, a flare gun and a ten thousand year old wizard just to locate your cat, there's no amount of Bitch Tax to take the job. Oops! I meant...DCT.