Walking a High-Energy, Distracted Dog, part one

Names have been changed, and all pictures are from Google, to protect the privacy of my clients.

Recently I started walking a new dog. "Sherman" is a two-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback. He is lean and leggy, very athletic, and super interested in everything around him. A good-looking dog!

He was relinquished to a rescue by his previous owner because she couldn't handle his energy level, she found him difficult to control on walks, and she was embarrassed by his behavior on leash. Now my client is fostering him until a perfect home can be found, and she's asked me to help Sherman with his manners. 

My client tells me that Sherman pulls on the leash. He is excitable and distracted by everything: birds, people, cars going by, a weird noise, just everything. When he sees something particularly interesting, like another dog, he lunges and barks, stands on his hind legs, and squeals. Well, that all sounds very interesting! Let's get a leash on Sherman and see how he does for me.

When a dog pulls on the leash, I assume it's because no one has told him not to in a way that he could understand. So I shorten the leash a little and spend some time in the yard letting Sherman learn that there is a place next to me where it is very comfortable; where he can sniff and go along and get pats and be told he is a good boy --- but that if he moves out of that place next to me, then he will be uncomfortable as I "check" on the leash, giving short, sharp tugs until he gets back to where he should be. 

I don't pull him back into place. If he's pulling and I'm pulling, then we're both miserable and communication has failed. He will just pull harder against me, and then I have to pull him more-- it turns into a real battle! These short tugs (checks, pops, whatever you want to call them) don't give him anything to pull against, and he can't lean into the uneven pressure. The instant he moves back next to me, my hands go still, the leash goes slack, and he is a good boy in a comfortable place again.

After a few minutes, Sherman is getting the idea. It takes nearly constant correction, but he's not upset, nervous, or scared. Confused, maybe, but that's okay. He's learning. He'll get it. 

Out on the street, I choose a route that I know is generally quiet. I want to keep distractions to a minimum while Sherman keeps learning. There's a lot to sniff and explore and Sherman wants to zoom here and there to check it all out, but I insist he stay by me. Every now and then, I ask him to sit, and then I stand still while giving him the command "Okay, go ahead." and giving him more leash. He can move all around me in a 12-foot circle, sniffing and exploring the area. This is a reward and gives him a break from the hard work of learning to heel. After a bit, I ask him to "Line up!" which means he is to come to my left side and stand facing forward, ready to walk on. 

Generally, I ask "Line up!" and wait for the dog to look at me before saying "Let's go!" and stepping out, but Sherman just doesn't have the attention for it. I could stand here going grey with age while Sherman looks at that bird over there, and ooh, what was that noise? Did you see that car go by? Hey, a leaf blew off that tree. The ground here smells weird. Look, a stick! I have a tail! My ear itches. There's a bug! Airplane! etc etc etc... 

I can't wait that long. So I decide to forego his eye contact in favor of keeping his active attention with my motion. Walk with me, dog. Okay, let's keep going! 

Suddenly a woman with a fluffy white dog steps out of a driveway hedgerow a few yards ahead of us. Sherman freezes, then is up on his hind legs, leaning on the leash, and -- yep, there he goes, The Squeal.  The woman glares at us, startled. The noise is really piercing! I check him back, turning sharply to walk back the way we came, taking him around off-balance so he has to get back on all fours. "Let's go!" I say brightly, and stride with purpose. 

Our time for this walk is almost up anyway, so we head for home. Overall, I'm pretty happy with what I've seen of Sherman. He's a smart dog, and I think he'll learn very quickly. When I correct him, he doesn't get upset or sulky, which tells me that he hasn't been roughly handled in the past. He just has never been taught anything -- at least not in a way that made sense to him -- so he is just doing what he thinks is best. His confidence will grow as he learns, and I bet we can put an end to The Squeal. 

I have to go now, it's time to walk Sherman! Tune in next time and I'll show you some on the ways we're working on attention. 

A Typical (Pandemic) Petsitting Visit: Pup and Kaiser!

I thought you all might be interested to read about what my work looks like when protective dog breeds bring their unique challenges. (As usual, client names are changed to protect privacy, and all pictures are from Google.)

I arrive at the address, a townhouse in a neighborhood complex, and park on the street. My clients are Pup, a 16 year old Yorkie mix, and Kaiser, a 6 year old Rottweiler.

This was a last-minute booking with a new client in an emergency situation. I have to admit I'm not confident about going in for today's first visit.

Rottweilers are wonderful, smart dogs. They are devoted to their families and years of selective breeding have made them good protectors and guard dogs. When I met Kaiser for the first time last night, he behaved himself very well. He took a few treats from me and enjoyed some petting and scratches. We got a long fine -- but that's while his owner was standing right there, talking to me in a friendly fashion. I know that Kaiser might feel very different about my coming in to the house without his owner around.

First things first: we're in the middle of a pandemic, so I put on my mask (which I wore at last night's meeting, so I hope Kaiser will remember it) and rub two generous squirts of hand sanitizer into my hands as I walk to the front door. I take a few deep breaths, remind myself to be relaxed and confident, and unlock the door. Opening it a few inches, I call out my usual "Hi! Friendly neighborhood dog walker!" to announce myself. I hear a thumping on the stairs and there's Kaiser.  I can hear his "voice" as clear as anything.

Kaiser: Who's there?

Me: Hi Kaiser! Remember me? 

Kaiser: Yeah. So what? 

Me: Want some treats? (I toss him a few cheesy training treats I have ready)

Kaiser: (eats them while keeping eye contact with me) ...okay. You can come in. But I'm watching you. 

See that picture up there? That is a Rottweiler looking at someone they like. See the lifted brows, the almost smiling mouth? Kaiser does not look like that right now. I couldn't even find a picture approximating his suspicious look. Kaiser has a hard look in his eyes, and he is definitely trying to figure out what the heck I'm doing here. I estimate he's giving me about one minute to explain myself. So I make light, happy, soothing talk while I call Pup and head towards the back door. My client said to not worry about walks and just let the dogs into the yard during my visits. 

I find most dogs know the words that are important to them, like their name, Walk, Dinner, Ball, Treat-- stuff like that. So I say the words I bet Kaiser understands, and will make him more comfortable. 

Me: Hey Kaiser, outside? Wanna go out? Oh boy! Let's go outside!  

Kaiser: You first.

Out I go, and I put Pup on the tether that keeps him from squeezing through the fence (he's so tiny!). Kaiser is standing in the doorway, still staring at me. 

I usually wear my mask during client visits but I decide I need to make an exception here. Kaiser is not warming up to me a bit, and I think the mask is a problem. It's a health and safety issue for me now, because it might provoke the dog, so I take it off. 

And it helps. Kaiser steps into the yard and takes his eyes off me for the first time. Whew! I find a tennis ball on the lawn and try to get Kaiser to play with me. He perks up a little and chases the ball, but loses interest and doesn't bring it back. Oh well. I have other nice things to offer, like breakfast.

While Kaiser and Pup find the absolute perfect places to do their business, I go back in the house. The owner has left their food dishes in the pantry cupboard with breakfast already served up, so all I have to do it put them on the floor. I give Kaiser's metal pan a shake and he runs in, excited. I ask him to sit, and he does, so here you go, friend: have some breakfast! 

Pup could absolutely not care less about his breakfast. He's an old guy and has his own private room in the house, so I figure I'll just leave his food and water in there with him when I leave and he can pick at it in his own time. 

I encourage the dogs to go outside again after Kaiser is done eating. He's accepting me more now, which is a huge relief. I give his ears a rub as we stand outside and think we're making progress, but when my hand moves to pat his shoulder, he gives a sudden snarly bark and snaps at me. I step away but give him a reprimand. 

Me: Don't you talk to me like that! Shame on you! 

Kaiser: ...you're not my mom. (glares)

My time is done, so I settle Pup in his room with his food and water while Kaiser stares at me from the living room. 

As a last friendly gesture, I go to the pantry and get a biscuit from the box for Kaiser. When he sees what I'm up to, he instantly changes into a happy, silly boy with wagging behind and lolling tongue. He loves his biscuits! At the door, I ask him to sit. He does, and I toss him the snack while I scoot out and lock the front door.

*Whew!*

I have three more visits to get through. It never gets any easier. I rely on bringing a biscuit with me to get in to the house, and giving him another when I leave. I take a little off his kibble ration so he isn't getting a calorie overload. 

Kaiser isn't a bad dog, or even a difficult dog. He's just a Rottweiler following what his bred-in instincts tell him to do. I know if I hung out with him and his owner a few more times, he'd be more accepting when I came in alone to care for him. I'm glad that we could find ways to get along with each other for these visits.

Of course this is a Covid19 post...

..is anyone talking about anything else?

So here we are; all staying home like everyone should, washing our hands, not touching our faces, and trying to decide if we need to change out of our sweat/yoga pants for video conferences if no one can see us from the waist down anyway. (My answer: probably not. Although everyone will see them when your cat walks across the table and knocks your hot coffee into your lap, causing you to jump up. On the other hand, you'll also be saying NSFW words, and making hilarious faces, so maybe your coworkers won't even notice that your yoga pants say "Juicy" across the butt.)

Our pets must think this is the most amazing time ever, because we don't grab our car keys and leave for hours every day anymore. My dog is delighted. She's constantly dropping toys at my feet, asking to play. The cats seem a little irritated, like my presence is interrupting their routine of naps, sleeping, and rest breaks.

"I can bring more toys, if these are not enough."

"Are you still here? Ugh."

And let's be honest: we are not a culture that is used to being home all the time. I consider myself very much a homebody, and it's a rare thing for me to leave my house after dinner. But puttering about the house doing this and that loses its charm quickly when you lose the option of doing anything else. 

Are you bored? I'm kinda bored. So I brainstormed some ideas of things to do while we all stay home and stay safe:

1. Take all those cardboard Amazon boxes you haven't broken down for recycling yet, and build your cat a castle. Google "cardboard cat house DIY" for some amazing pictures and ideas. 

2. Make a pet photo booth by cutting holes in a cardboard box for your pet to look through, and then drawing funny bodies/characters/actions underneath. (You can buy these online, but it's more fun to make your own, and you don't have to wait for shipping.) Take bunches of pictures and post them on social media for everyone to enjoy! 

3. Teach your dog to "find it!" This is a fun one to do with kids. They can take turns holding the dog and hiding the treats. Start with a really yummy treat, not just a piece of boring kibble, but something amazing that your dog will be excited about. Show it to him, and then let him watch you "hide" it somewhere obvious a few feet away. "Find it!" you say, and let him go get it. Good dog! Then let him watch you as you put it somewhere a little less obvious, like under a napkin on the floor. This gives him the idea that he might have to look a little harder. Be careful not to make it too difficult too soon. let him "find" the treats pretty easily at first. 

Then try taking him out of the room while you hide the treat (make it pretty easy this time), and see if he can find it when you bring him back in. And remember to use the command "Find it!" or something similar. 

Alternatively, you could use a special toy, something small, that your dog is excited about, like a squeaky ball.

After a while, you can step up the difficulty. Kids are great at this, and are very imaginative in their hiding places. Make sure to choose safe places where nothing will get broken or scratched up by an excited dog trying to get at his treasure. 

4. Build an obstacle course. Will your dog hop through a hula hoop? Can he walk along a plank? What about going under a blanket tented over a clothesline? Through a maze of cardboard boxes? You can try this with cats, too. Some might not be as enthusiastic, others will surprise you with their athleticism.

5. See if your pet can figure out the Shell Game -- you know, where you have three cups and there's a ball (or treat) under one. Move the cups around and see if your pet can guess where the treat is. My dog Josie was pretty good at this. My dog Jenny just wants to play with the cups. 

Okay, that's all I can write for now. Jenny is pestering me to go for a walk. At least we can still go outside and walk our dogs (as long as we maintain social distancing, of course)! 

Take care of yourself, and if you have any things you and your pets are doing to beat boredom, tell me about it in the comments! 

Free Box!

In my town, we have a thing called a Free Box. Folks around here will often put useful items they no longer want out in front of their house with a sign saying "Free" and there is absolutely no shame or judgement in checking it out and taking anything you want. Usually kitchen items, books, stuff like that. Sometimes there will be something completely amazing that I can't leave behind, and that's why I have this in the guest room: 

Yep, that is a lady in a chain mail bikini, standing on the wing of a four-legged dragon that has a chariot butt. She and her orc friends seem to have a real problem with snakes. The dragon's anatomy is a real stumper. Wheels AND four legs? And the wing -- shouldn't there be two?  But after looking at it for a while, I think I have figured it out, and the reasoning is actually pretty sweet: 

Notice how the front legs are grasping and clawing at the snakes, while the hind legs are just kind of dangling and stiff? It's plain that this poor dragon has suffered an injury and lost the use of his back legs.

Ysandri, scimitar queen and keeper of dragons: Alas! My dragon Edgho has been grievously wounded in battle! Bitten nigh in half by Kssssa the Lich Snake! Behold his useless limbs, his missing tail, his tattered wings! Surely he shall never bravely fight again by my side. Oh Edgho, my valiant beast-friend! (wails)

Orc 1: But wait! Orcs can help. Time can heal. All is not lost. 

Orc 2: Yes! Yes!  We have a plan. 

Ysandri, SQ and KoD: (blinks away tears) What's this? He can be saved? (frowns sadly) But a dragon that cannot fight is only half a dragon! 

Orc 2: (mutters) Is only half a dragon now. 

Ysandri, SQ and KoD: ...what?

Orc 1: (pushes Orc 2 aside) You wait. We work. Edgho fight again, soon.

Time passes with sounds of sawing and hammering, while Edgho sips weakly at broth and suffers daily bandage changes. Then, one day, the orcs have a surprise...

Orc 1: Prepare the giant spatula! 

Orc 2: (heaving and grunting noises)

There is a scraping noise, then a sound like half a dragon being dropped into a chariot.

Orc 1: Behold! 

Ysandri, SQ and KoD: But what is this? Edgho? How..?

Orc 1: Is good as new. Maybe not fly, but even more dangerous on ground now. 

Orc 2: Wheels crush all in path. 

Orc 2 is on crutches, his foot bandaged, and hops around to the back of the dragon to point at the chariot.

Orc 2: Even has new tail, all wood. Very strong. 

Ysandri, SQ and KoD: Oh Edgho! My brave boy! Let's go get revenge on Kssssa the Lich Snake by killing every snake we see! 

Thrilling music plays as a killer montage starts and we see the scene depicted above. 

There. See? This simple fantasy-style tapestry shows a heartwarming scene of a handi-capable dragon enjoying a happy day with his supportive friends. And you thought it was just some heavy metal nonsense. 

Walkies! Way Back When

Right around this time of year, twenty years ago, I was driving to work at a job I hated.

In an effort to dispel my grumpy mood, I imagined what I'd be doing if I had the day off. Well, it was a pretty nice day for February-- sunny, even-- so I'd probably go for a walk outside. And since I was imagining, I imagined a dog to walk with me; a dog I'd been wanting for a few years but couldn't get thanks to apartments we'd been living in that didn't allow pets.

As I drove past the Washington State Capitol campus, I had a sudden thought: a dog walking service. Look at all these state offices. If half of the people working there own dogs... and half of that half hurry home on their lunch break to let that dog out or sit at their desk worrying if their dog is okay... and half of that half of that half would be willing to pay a modest amount to have me take their dog for a walk during the day --- why, I'd have more business than I could handle! And I didn't know anyone that was offering this sort of service at all!

That night I made a plan for my own business, printed up a few simple flyers, and went to bed dreaming about all the fun dogs I was going to meet.  Six months later I took a deep breath and quit that job I hated to be a dog walker and pet sitter full time.

I thought I'd share some memorabilia from those early days. I found my old introduction book that I used to show prospective clients in the days before the internet and it's full of old friends. 

I used to tell people that my space program was on hold because dogs kept putting their heads out the window and it was difficult to find space helmets in dog sizes. Then I had one woman who actually believed me and I decided that the idea of dog heads exploding in the vacuum of space maybe wasn't the best joke to make anyway. I thought it was funny, though. 

Look, Polaroids! 

The very first phone call on my new pager (this was before cell phones, imagine that!) was from a gentleman named Don, whose first question was "How are you with aggressive dogs?" I was a little nervous but I didn't want to lose my possibly first client, so I said I was great with all dogs and I was sure his wouldn't be a problem. 

When we met up, I was relieved to learn that Maude was a lovely dog with people. Her aggression was only towards some other dogs and all the squirrels in the world. As long as I kept a good hold on the leash and crossed the street whenever another dog approached, we got along just fine.  We even got our picture in the paper! 

Leave the squirrel alone, Maude.

Calvin was the second client to call. He had just moved to the area and wanted his dog walked while he was at work all day. Mai Lee was the only Shar-pei I've ever seen or walked, and what a sweet dog she was. Later on, Cal married, and his wife Phyllis came with her dog Buster, the biggest Rottweiler I'd ever seen. He was a bit more of a challenge. He had a majestic confidence that spoke volumes. It said "Hi. I'm Buster. Welcome to my home. I'm sure you'll behave just fine." He had a very definite idea of right and wrong, and if he decided something wasn't right, he'd let you know about it. 

The first time I tried to take him for a walk, we got to the end of the driveway and he stopped. I gave a little tug on the leash and called him to come along, but he refused. He sat down. When I tugged the leash again, he growled very softly.  It was plain to me that he wasn't planning on leaving his home property unprotected to go on some foolish neighborhood walkabout with me. I called Phyllis and explained the situation. "He's perfectly right," she said. "Just put him in the yard."

Sometimes it's good to recognize what works and what doesn't when it comes to walking dogs. While I'm no pushover with opinionated pups, there are times when I will compromise with a dog rather than insist on my own way. Rottweilers have been trained through centuries to guard their owners' property, and it's in their nature to do so. Buster's instinct and training told him to stay home and protect the house. It wasn't important that he go on a walk; he just needed the opportunity to relieve himself, and his own backyard was perfectly okay for that. So we compromised, and Buster and I got on fine after that. He was always a little concerned about the fact that I showed up when his people weren't home, but he'd let me in, enjoy his backyard time and play a little ball, and then escort me to the door to see that I didn't steal the silver on my way out. Once the front door was closed, he'd jump up against it and give one resounding WOOF! which startled me every time, even when I was expecting it. He was quite a dog!

I'm not sure because I stopped keeping track, but it's entirely possible that Melissa and Kona were my third clients. Kona was a wonderful dog, very friendly and beautiful as well, and I loved walking him because I could take him down the road from his house to the waterfront, where there was a private beach for residents. During the summer he could swim, and if it was too cold for that, we would play fetch walking up and down the gravelly shoreline, and find interesting things the tide had left behind: shells, tiny crabs, jellyfish, bits of broken glass.  It's not often I get to let a dog play off-leash, because my insurance (and common sense) is very clear about me having what is called "custody, care, and control" at all times. I only let a dog off the leash if we are in a fenced area and I know the dog will come to me when I call. The beach had a high concrete wall and could only be accessed by going down some steps and through a gate that latched securely. Some homeowners had their own backyard gates. Kona would never go farther than I could throw his tennis ball, so it was wonderful.

Except for the day someone left their backyard gate open. Kona saw it before I did and was through it like a flash, running up the steps, across their lawn, and up the stairs leading to their second-story deck. I was about fifty yards behind with my soggy, sandy shoes, calling his name and desperate to catch him. I followed him up to the second-story deck, where he had surprised a family having brunch. He had run right in through the open sliding doors and was making himself at home by the kitchen table begging for bacon when I arrived in the doorway, out of breath and holding his leash.

"I'm SO sorry!" I panted. "We were on the beach and he took off running--" Then I thought of how Melissa and Kona were friendly with all their neighbors and these might very well be family friends who would understand and laugh. "Do you know Kona? This is Kona." I stammered.

"We do NOT know Kona." The woman holding the coffeepot snarled, without a trace of an understanding laugh.

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry..." I kept repeating as I took wet, sandy, dripping Kona by the collar and hustled him out the door, back down the stairs, across the grass, through the gate (which I closed securely) and back to the beach.

As my riding coach would say, "Did you learn something?" You bet I did! Now I look for escape points everywhere, even with a leashed dog. Care, custody, and control -- I take them very seriously!

I hope you've enjoyed this look into my early years. As you can see, my motto "Every walk is an adventure!" is certainly true.

Rain!

People often tell me how lucky I am to have a job that lets me be outside all day, rather than sitting at a desk. They usually say this when it's sunny and warm, and I always agree that my outdoor job is pretty great.

Then there are days when I wake up and it's like this:

Rainy days present special challenges for a dog walker. 

Some dogs don't mind rain, and others hate it. I always say that it's not my job to make dogs miserable, so if I know the dog I'm going to walk is going to brace at the front door and refuse to go outside in the rain, I'll try to find a way to compromise. I'll take them out long enough to take care of their bathroom business and then they can go back inside. After a quick toweling off, we play fetch in the house or work on obedience skills for the rest of their scheduled time. I keep a stack of towels in my car to dry off dogs (and myself!), to keep muddy pawprints and indoor shake-offs to a minimum.

Keeping myself dry is another challenge. I have a collection of rain gear that can see me through almost anything from gentle shower to microburst. Most rainy days can be managed by putting on my waxed canvas jacket and tucking my jeans into my rainboots, but if it's really coming down, I put on my oilcloth slicker and rain pants to keep me dry as long as possible. 

Coming home for lunch and putting my wet gear in the dryer makes afternoon client visits more comfortable.  I keep a few extra clothes in my car so I can make a quick change if things get soaked: an extra rain hat, spare umbrella, a wool sweater (wool keeps you warm even when it's wet, so that's a plus!), a second pair of boots and dry socks. (A leaky boot and wet socks is a sure way to ruin my day.) A thermos of hot tea and a good attitude are the final elements to surviving a day of walking dogs in the rain -- and the thought of a good hot meal when I get home.

Clients will sometimes cancel if the weather is really nasty, and I appreciate that if driving safety is a concern. But just regular rain? I can walk in that all day. 

Oh, this makes me think of raincoats for dogs! I like them, and most dogs seem to as well, once they get used to wearing one. I like the kind that have reflective strips on them, and a warm lining. They do need to be re-waterproofed now and then. There are many different styles, even ones that cover the legs. I will mention that most dogs hate having a hood over or around their heads. Try a few to find one that your dog is comfortable in and that is easy to put on and take off-- it's no fun struggling to undo a soggy raincoat from a wriggling dog.

Look at how stylish this little fella is! And that belly band will keep his tummy warm and dry, too.

Boots for dogs are another matter. Sometimes there's a good reason for them like keeping a bandage or injury dry, concerns about chemical/fuel residue in the city, or hiking miles of rough terrain. But mostly it seems people just think they're cute. I guess you can spend your money on whatever you like, but dogs have been walking in the rain for centuries without boots and have managed just fine, and most dogs find having their paws covered a little strange.

"I'm gonna lose one at the coffee shop, one at the park, and chew another off once we get home."

I hope you're keeping dry during this rainy season. Just think, in a few months we can start complaining about the heat instead. Thanks for reading! See you next time.

A Typical Petsitting Visit: Albert; PLUS bonus visit: Frank

As anyone who works with animals can tell you, there's no such thing as a "typical" day. Each visit is as unique as the pet I'm caring for. Here's an example of what I do during a petsitting visit, based on real clients. (I've changed names and certain details to protect their privacy, and all pictures are from Google.)

My stop is a dinnertime visit to a single-family home with a fenced yard. My client is Albert, a five year old neutered male yellow lab. 

I park in the driveway and enter through the side gate. Albert stays in a large outdoor enclosure in the back yard while his people are away, so I don't need to go into the house at all. Hey there, Albert! 

Albert is barking excitedly and jumping up on the door of his dog run. I ask him to sit, and when he does, I open the door and let him out into the fenced yard. While he runs around making sure every tree and bush is right where it should be, I make his meal: half a can of wet food, and half a cup of dry kibble. I stir it together with a splash of water. Albert is a big dog, but he's bigger than he should be, so he's on a bit of a diet.  I give him his dinner and then fetch his water dish from the dog run. I dump, rinse, and refill it with fresh water, then put it back in the run.

While he licks his feed pan to be sure he's gotten every single molecule of his meal, I walk the yard and pick up any poop I find. I also take a look at the plants to see if any of them need watering. Albert's owners are big gardeners, and they pay me a little extra to run the hose if needed. 

Done eating, Albert? Okay, let's go for a walk.

Albert's owners have taught him very good leash manners. He doesn't pull on the leash at all. In fact, he tends to dawdle a bit while he sniffs here and there, and leaves a dribble to mark his favorite spots.  I take out my phone and start reading aloud to him as we stroll along. 

Wait, what?

Yes, I often read aloud to the pets in my care. I've read classics like The Iliad, The Odyssey, Canterbury Tales, Alice In Wonderland, Dicken's A Christmas Carol, and Spenser's Faerie Queene, and sometimes I read funny stuff like Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams. Today we're reading one of the Icelandic Sagas -- viking stuff. What do you think, Albert? Would you sail on a boat with this guy Hrut? He sure seems to get into a lot of situations.

Well, it's something to think about, isn't it. I think you'd look very stylish.

Albert stops to do his business, so I dig a bag out of my pocket. After picking up, I tie a knot in the bag and we head for home. I can see someone approaching about a block away with a German shepherd. Albert is fine with some dogs and not others and I've never been able to figure out what his deciding factor is, so I steer him across the street to avoid a confrontation. I wave and smile to the other walker. Nice dog! 

Back home. Dog bag goes in the trash can. Is today trash day? No, it's recycling, isn't it. I roll the green bin to the curb for pick-up. Come on, Albert, time for your treat.

Once we're safely in the yard with the gate secure, I take off the leash. Albert knows the routine, so he goes straight into his dogloo in the dog run. I toss him a treat and latch the door to the run. You be a good boy, Albert. I'll see you next time. No barking, okay?

I go through the checklist in my head: food, water, yard check, walk.. yep, everything is good. I make sure the yard gate is secure behind me as I leave. 

After a short drive across town...

My next client is a dinnertime visit to a single-family rental home with a three year old neutered male black cat named Frank.

I let myself in with my key, and I see Frank run down the stairs and into the kitchen where his food dish is. Frank is a big kitty, but he has the squeakiest kittenish "mew". He's already hollering at me about how he's never been fed in his entire life MEW MEW MEW MEW MEW

Allright, Frank, settle down; I'm getting it. 

Frank gets half a can of wet food in his dish downstairs, and a scoop of dry kibble in his food puzzle upstairs. While he gobbles down his meal, I see to cleaning the catbox. 

I put the bag of litterbox scoopings by the front door so I remember to take it out the the trash when I leave. Then I settle down on the couch and start reading aloud to Frank. He curls up on a folded blanket next to me while I pet him and read, but soon he climbs into my lap and butts his head under my chin. Then he starts kneading on my shoulder, and his claws are sharp! Ouch, Frank!  I move his paws and feel wetness. Frank is a drooler! Some cats do this when they are very content. I take it as a compliment, but I'd rather not be soggy with cat spit, so I move him back to the folded blanket while continuing to pet him. 

I hear voices outside. Neighbors? No, it's right outside the door. And there's a clanking, metal sort of noise. What is going on? I look outside and see three people standing in the driveway. Stay here, Frank. I'm gonna check this out. I take the bag of litter scoopings out to the trash can.

There's an older guy and a younger couple. They introduce themselves as neighbors and the older guy says he's here to clean the gutters. I nod and put the trash in the can. I surreptitiously take a picture of them with my phone, and then go back inside and lock the door. 

(Remember, all pictures are from Google image search. This isn't the actual guy I'm talking about.)

Inside with Frank, I text my client the picture and tell her what's going on. Does she know these people? She doesn't, so I wait while she contacts her landlord. A few minutes later, I get another text for her: it's okay, the gutter guy is part of the landlord's team. The other couple are next-door neighbors. Nothing suspicious is going on.

Allrighty, then. Frank is fed, his litterbox is clean, I'm soggy with his drool, and all is right with the world. See you tomorrow, Frank. Be good! 

I take the security of my clients' homes very seriously, and I am always alert to any situations that seem unusual. Thankfully, situations like this are very rare. 

I hope you've enjoyed this further look into what it is I do every day. Thank for reading. See you next time!