Here's to You Harley
I arrived at the house I was sitting the other day and went to take the electric collars off the dogs. The border collie leaped all over me until I got the collar off then I turned my attention to the other one. There was blood all over his face. But oddly, no injury. For a moment I was confused. And then I thought with a sudden sickening feeling. Where was the cat? Earlier that afternoon I had allowed the cat to go outside as he was eagerly waiting for me to open the door and it was a beautiful day to be outside doing what cats do best (nothing). The owners had assured me that the cat could go outside because the dogs were securely contained within the house yard.
But now, as I stood looking at the blood-drenched nose of a rather jubilant looking dog I just knew. "Harley?" I called out fearfully. Grabbing a torch I began to make my way around the side of the house. Lying on the ground in a crumpled, bloody mess was the murdered Harley. In horror I ordered the dogs back to the verandah. My housesitting career flashed before my eyes. This was probably worse than burning the house down. I had killed one of their own. One of the family. A beloved furry companion who had been with them since kittenhood. I looked at the blood-soaked body in agony then went inside to make a frantic call to the emergency number I had. Tearfully, I explained what had happened and they attempted to calm me down. But I was not calm. This was worst-case-scenario 101 and it had happened to me on only my third housesitting assignment. I would be homeless by morning for sure. Everyone would find out what a careless, terrible, hopeless housesitter I was. I would be banished from the online housesitting register and lose custody of my own two cats...
All right, I was overreacting but the event had transported me back to when I was a child walking my dog up the street to our house. Missy had been pulling and tugging at the lead in her excitement at getting outside for some exercise. I couldn't stand it any longer and begged my father to let her off the lead so she could run home the way I know she was dying to do. Well dying is what she ended up doing when she ran straight into an oncoming car. I watched her dying by the side of the road and cried myself to sleep for a very long time afterward. Perhaps I always blamed myself for it because I sure was doing that for what happened to Harley.
But the owners assured me that it was not my fault and that their dog had long been nurturing a desire to see how many lives the cat had left.
Well, it was nice knowing you Harley, - I hope you get reincarnated as a flea and get right behind Buster's ear ; )
But now, as I stood looking at the blood-drenched nose of a rather jubilant looking dog I just knew. "Harley?" I called out fearfully. Grabbing a torch I began to make my way around the side of the house. Lying on the ground in a crumpled, bloody mess was the murdered Harley. In horror I ordered the dogs back to the verandah. My housesitting career flashed before my eyes. This was probably worse than burning the house down. I had killed one of their own. One of the family. A beloved furry companion who had been with them since kittenhood. I looked at the blood-soaked body in agony then went inside to make a frantic call to the emergency number I had. Tearfully, I explained what had happened and they attempted to calm me down. But I was not calm. This was worst-case-scenario 101 and it had happened to me on only my third housesitting assignment. I would be homeless by morning for sure. Everyone would find out what a careless, terrible, hopeless housesitter I was. I would be banished from the online housesitting register and lose custody of my own two cats...
All right, I was overreacting but the event had transported me back to when I was a child walking my dog up the street to our house. Missy had been pulling and tugging at the lead in her excitement at getting outside for some exercise. I couldn't stand it any longer and begged my father to let her off the lead so she could run home the way I know she was dying to do. Well dying is what she ended up doing when she ran straight into an oncoming car. I watched her dying by the side of the road and cried myself to sleep for a very long time afterward. Perhaps I always blamed myself for it because I sure was doing that for what happened to Harley.
But the owners assured me that it was not my fault and that their dog had long been nurturing a desire to see how many lives the cat had left.
Well, it was nice knowing you Harley, - I hope you get reincarnated as a flea and get right behind Buster's ear ; )
Kalikapsychosis
Good to see you writing more. I'll be back, I love your writing style and banner pic.