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ADVENTURES IN HOUSESITTING
Go Big ‘Cuz There is No “Home” (Kicking off the Adventures in Housesitting (AIH) series)
I see your frog, Mark Twain, and I raise you two massive dogs.
“Don’t look! Don’t look!” my friend called out urgently. “She’s about to…” But that’s all I needed to hear. I quickly averted my eyes, took several steps away, and prayed I wasn’t downwind.
That was 2019, well before the word “coronavirus” became a daily term and I had no reason to leave the life I’d created in Washington, DC. Emily and I zipped along the tree-lined street of our neighborhood with her dog who, while objectively cute, pooped on our walks — as dogs do. My friends joked about my aversion to dog poop, but still kindly warned me before my gag reflex could kick in — as friends do.
Hence the incredulous looks through the Zoom screen or over the top of medical masks from at least six feet away when I told people two years later that I was leaving DC and taking up petsitting.
“But you can’t deal with poop!” I heard more times than I can count. And they were right; I really couldn’t handle dog poop. Not that anyone loves it, I suppose, but most people accept it as a fact of life and go on. I, on the other hand, a runner who had found poop on…
