This morning I was tending thirteen furry charges with my pet sitting business. I was fairly deep in the country – the kinda place where the hills might have eyes. I drove my big black Silverado pickup, bent the rim of my ancient felt hat low over my brow, and wore sunglasses, though the sun was barely creeping across the Cumberland Plateau where I live. When one ventures into the backwoods, one should at least appear as though they belong… :)

This particular job is interesting. The woman who engaged my services is highly educated with a lot of eccentricity stirred into her moonshine. Actually, she imbibes goat milk – I wrote moonshine for effect. :)

Her tidy, but chaotic home is a renovated chicken coop. The house next door is also a renovated chicken coop. She lives in one and a man lives in the other… her husband. No matter where I go on these jobs, I always keep my game face, but upon hearing about her living arrangements, I burst out laughing – a laughter full of admiration – for their ingenuity. Remember, I am a freckle away from divorce. Hmmm, I pondered, maybe I would still be married if my husband and I had lived next door to each other. :)

Most of my thirteen charges are phantoms. My peripheral vision catches a tail here or there, but most of the seven cats dash for cover or escape through the multitude of kitty doors. A few of the dogs greet me with jaunty tails and millions of kisses. It’s my easiest account – I simply refresh the water bowls and return the unconditional love I am given.

As I puttered about this morning, in the distance I heard a screen door slam. I know it might seem nutty, but I love the slam of screen doors. It evokes some indefinable aura from my childhood – a time in my life when everything was simpler – toys didn’t require batteries and microchips… jump rope, hopscotch, hide & seek, or piles of leaves to tumble in. I have a screen door on my porch and will sometimes invent reasons to go back and forth, just so I can hear its creaky slam. It’s magic.

Of note, this morning’s client insisted I was undercharging and upped my bid by an extra $5 per visit. I thanked her, because I often neglect to factor in the rising cost of gasoline. However, in the interim, I’ve thought about her generosity. Truth is, I’m happy as a clam at high tide if I can cover my gas and put a few bucks in the bank. I plan to invoice her less her offer – and hope for referrals and perhaps her esteem for my honesty.

I won’t die a rich woman… well, yes, I will – rich with experience.

Of note, my most humble clients are the ones who always want to pay me extra. I think that thought will require another post. All I know is that my life is so much richer for simply knowing them. xoxo

P.S. Speaking of beloved pets… my dear, dear friend, Patsy, recently lost her beloved Cocker Spaniel, Guera. They enjoyed a beautiful and loyal companionship for many, many years. This has been a sorrowful time for my friend. Please send *kind* thoughts her way. xoxo