A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure to housesit for some friends of mine, Revel and Kate Gholston.
While normal people would never leave me in charge of the well-being of two dogs and a gorgeous house, they thought it was a good idea.
Who am I to argue?
During their seven day vacation, their dogs, Brando and Jackie O, and I reached what could best be described as something similar to US and Soviet relations during the Nixon era — uneasy but cordial.
I am not now, nor have I ever been, a pet person.
Some of you are recoiling at that sentence, but I’ve always said I’m far too self-centered to care about the life of another human being, much less an animal.
I lacked the care to even raise goldfish.
Things that will poop and vomit around a house at random have always been on my “Avoid at all costs” lists, human babies included.
I was worried when my adventures in pet-sitting started that the dogs would instantly know I wasn’t an animal person and spend the rest of our time together finding ways to make my life a living hell.
More than a week out from this experience, I can tell you they did nothing of the sort.
I took them for walks, eventually allowing them to choose what direction they wanted to go in for their multiple daily constitutionals.
In doing that, I got to see more of Historic Downtown Opelika than I’ve ever really seen and I got to get up close and personal with a drainage ditch near the Second Avenue bridge. (That should be avoided at all costs. It’s not a safe place by any stretch of the imagination.)
I even took the dogs a few places, letting them play and frolic with some friends’ pets, something they seemed to take to moderately well.
Playdates are always fun for everyone — the kids (dogs) can play and the adults can drink and socialize. Everyone wins.
For their part, the dogs seemed to understand when it was time to be quiet and just chill out.
They were by my side to watch every episode of HBO’s “Treme,” proof that the show is simply phenomenal.
(If you haven’t seen this show and its gritty, real look at post-Katrina New Orleans, you must. Do it now.)
The dogs learned that if I had my laptop in my lap and was typing something, they needed to not be anywhere near me. It only took me pushing Jackie off of the couch 26 times for her to get it, but, after that, she was as good as gold.
They weren’t loud or overly rambunctious.
There were relatively few bodily secretions left in odd places in the house, making cleanup and care a breeze.
They were, and are, good dogs. Revel and Kate have obviously raised them well.
I’m still on the fence about pet ownership, but Brando and Jackie have shown me some of the benefits of having loving, great pets.
Unless I can find some like them, though, McCollum Cottage will remain a pet-free zone.
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