Working in an insecure and sadly dying industry, I have often mused on the question: 'if I was made redundant, what else could I do?' When I was young I liked the idea of being a vet. Unfortunately I did not like the idea of science (although I love reading scientific books now, usually bamboozling topics such as blackholes and wormholes) and then there was the little matter of being squeamish. Roll on a couple of decades and I remembered this desire to work with animals. At the same time I was thinking of starting up a mini business, run on a very low scale to coexist with my current job.
So I joined a dog walking online platform, thinking nothing would come of it. I was wrong and by the end of 2022, I had six clients (canine) and four human ones. One of these canine clients was a British bulldog called Danny. His pet mum was worried that two-year-old Danny wouldn't settle if his family went on holiday as he was adopted during lockdown and had never been left before. We arranged for Danny to have an overnight stay, a weekend stay and, if those went okay, a week-long stay while his family went on a long-awaited holiday.
He was a perfect gentleman on the first stay. He was a bulky, strong fellow with a naturally grumpy appearance (he was a bulldog after all) but when he 'smiled' he looked so happy and friendly. He wouldn't go into my garden unless I went in too and he wanted to go into the bathroom when I did. He also insisted in sleeping in my room (albeit in his bed although he would have demanded to sleep in my bed had I been a total pushover). Otherwise on his first stay, as I said, a perfect gentleman.
I looked forward to his second stay as he had been such a good boy the previous time. But Good Danny was replaced by Naughty Danny without my prior knowledge. He chewed a old lampshade that had been stored under my bed and pulled me down while I was walking him because he saw a man with a dog and, for some reason, this was highly exciting to Danny. Oh, and then there was the incident when I was talking on the phone and he took umbrage at this (why was I not looking at him and paying him attention?) and he decided the best way to get attention was to hump my leg. Not a laughing matter when it's a heavy bulldog who is bruising your leg.
I told his pet mum Amanda about the lampshade but didn't mention the other matters. She had already booked him in for a week and it was too late to back out now.
It was with trepidation that I greeted Danny for his week holiday. I had only looked after dogs for three or four nights maximum up to this time and eight days felt an awfully long time. And then this was a dog who followed me to the bathroom, chewed my belongings and humped my leg when he wanted attention. Eight days, at least it wasn't longer. At least, if you halved it, it was only four days and then another four...
On the Wednesday, Amanda arrived with Danny. I smiled and pretended I was delighted to see him. Danny seemed to forget our previous little disagreements and appeared happy to come back to his guesthouse. His pet mum showed me his toys, chews (don't leave him alone with the chew, she warned. I was thinking, not something else to worry about...), dog food (ironically for active dogs), his bed and blankets. I wished her a happy journey and then she left.
I had the agency's emergency phone number if anything went wrong, I told myself. I was nervous on two counts.
One, it was just over a week. Other dogs had been looked after for shorter periods, this was eight days, anything could go wrong, what if, what if... (I had been having sleepless nights prior to this week, worrying about what could go wrong).
Two, it was Danny. If it was Good Danny, all well and good. But what if it was Naughty Danny? Here to hump my leg, pull me over, and eat his way through my property?
I had to take my elderly parents' dogs to the vet that Wednesday, a necessary trip that meant Danny would have to be left for two to three hours. I avoided leaving dogs on their own unless necessary and usually only for one or two hours but needs must. I left him on my settee in my living room after taking all my knick-knacks out. I hoped he wouldn't chew my wooden coffee table, although the guinea pigs had been making a good job of it without Danny's help.
Within three hours I arrived home. I prepared for the worst. Scratched door, pees and poos on the rugs, broken ornaments I hadn't removed... I held my breath and opened the living room door.
All was well. Danny was at the door, waiting to greet me, wagging his almost non-existent tail (bulldogs have tiny tails). No damage whatsoever.
That night I expected him to bark as I had left in his bed downstairs. I was ready to take his bed upstairs in my room again but if he could relax in my living room, I'd leave him there. Not a sound was heard and the next morning, Danny was, again, happy to see me, wagging his tail and rear end.
I was also able to go to my bathroom without anyone following me or srcatching the door.
This was Independent Danny. I thought he was enjoying my company while I worked in my upstairs study and he slept on the settee up there. But I found that even when I was downstairs, he was still up there, snoozing away. We started trusting each other. I left him to his own devices when I left the house for a couple of hours. He happily napped upstairs. He took a liking to that study, whether I was there or not.
At first I took offence, did he not like my company? But we sat next to each other on my living room sofa that Saturday night, me watching The Deer Hunter, Danny snoring away. It wasn't me, it was the room I realised. It was the sunniest and warmest room of the house and Danny had carefully selected the best room of his guesthouse for his daytime sleeping. Maybe he knew he was here for a week so he might as well make the most of it and treat himself to the warmest, sunniest spot. He couldn't demand the landlady's attention 24/7 so he may as well make the most of the facilities, which he did.
I found Danny's company relaxing although when I took photos of him to send to Amanda, he would make the most grumpiest face. He had a dislike to being photographed so many of his pictures were of his dozing on the settee.
The week came and went and soon it was pick-up time the following Thursday. Amanda arrived and Danny ambled downstairs, nonchalantly. He didn't seem particularly bothered that he was going home. Whether he was sulking because he had been left behind while his family had gone abroad on holiday or simply irritated that he had been disturbed during a lovely napping session, I do not know. But I was happy that nothing bad had happened and that he was healthy and reasonably happy. I thought, yes, Danny, at least Independent Danny, can certainly come back again to stay at Cosy Cottage's Exclusive Guesthouse.
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