Russian Neighbor

Anyone who happened to see the other night's episode of Two Broke Girls can understand what I found so funny: two girls take a vacation, so to speak, while dog and house sitting for some friends.  I instantly related, as I tend to look at upcoming jobs as little "breaks" or "vacations," considering on the house and job.  I died laughing when part of the instructions left for the girls was to express one of the dog's anal glands--it turned out to be meant as a joke.  When the owners came back one of them said, "who asks someone to do that to their dog??!"  Let me tell you: I know those people.  I have watched a dog so ancient that I had to squeeze his back half to get help get his bowels out, and I did not get paid extra.

I have many stories of my adventures with dogs, sometimes the same dog with several issues.  But today I'll tell you about my experience with a nosy neighbor and a humongous dog.

Huldy, a rhodesian ridgeback was just a couple years old when I first met him.  His mom was a really cool girl I met through my mom, actually.  She loved this dog so much and thought the world of him.  She lived in the tiniest little house with the biggest dog I've ever seen.  She's also a marathon runner, so I understand why walking him wasn't a big deal.  But when I walked him, I thought I was going to either lose my arm or fall flat on my face and knock out all my teeth.

FYI: this is a rhodesian ridgeback.  Huldy came up to my mid-thigh, and I'm 5'4".

How the two of them fit in there, I'll never understand because I am not a big person and I do not take up a lot of room, but Huldy and I were far more familiar with each other than I would have liked.  And I love all dogs.  Anyway, the lady who lived next door was Russian and madly in love with Huldy as well.  She had a big dog and would often take them both on a walk then feed them together.  Her idea of feeding a dog is by no means normal.  This woman actually cooked meat and noodles, something similar to beef stroganoff or something, and then toss in dog food.  So it was this creamy, messy, foul-smelling slop that of course the dogs ate up in a matter of seconds.  Huldy's mom, Lana, mentioned this particular trip she did not want the nosy neighbor feeding her dog.  Lana sometimes had to work a little late and the Russian would help herself to Huldy and feed him, making him a bit overweight.  It was clear that I was to prevent smelly Russian woman from coming over and snatching her dog.  

I get it, I mean, someone is super helpful, loves your dog and seems harmless, so you give them a key to your house.  How are you supposed to ask for said key back after a year or so of them helping out?  So the point was to prevent any opportunity for her to come over while I was there--I was taking care of the dog, not her.

So Monday evening I snuck out of work about 15 minutes early and raced to Lana's house hoping to get Huldy walked and fed before Russian could.  By the way, this women had a husband and some other dude living with her, and the extra guy was always eating bratwurst and smoking outside.  I couldn't understand a damn word she said, and I was just irritated with her; this particular job was not my first encounter with her, unfortunately.  I had tried to make it clear, as had Lana, that Huldy was in my care and he was on a strict diet.  But, I hurried home anyway because I figure if I can't understand someone, chances are they can't understand me, and this was before apps that could translate for us.

Needless to say, I didn't make it in time.  And I knew I was in trouble immediately.  Not with Lana, but with Huldy.  I just never could have imagined what kind of trouble.  

I walked to the back door of the neighbor and saw her putting food in the dog's bowls from a pan on the stove…it kinda looked like prison food, but the pups were drooling for it.  I think she said she had already walked the dogs or something, and I wasn't about to take a seven foot dog on a walk after eating whatever she fed him.  I can't remember exactly why, but I was dirty and hot and sweaty and just wanted to get cleaned up, eat and go to bed.  So I watched TV, keeping a watchful eye on Huldy the entire time.  I was relieved, albeit very little, when he got gas--I figured that was going to be the extent of the damage on his stomach.  

So I took a bath, read my magazine and just tried to decompress from the day.  I got squeaky clean and felt a hundred times better.  Huldy and I got in bed, actually, Huldy got on the bed and I squeezed into the only available inch he left.  His gas seemed to be gone and I was starting to drift off when I realized I had left a light on in the den.  I got up in the dark and made my way to the switch when all of a sudden I stepped in it.  I literally stepped in it, barefoot and all.  It was slimy, cold, chunky and smelled like sewage.  Huldy had lost his dinner all over the hardwood floor and was now sleeping it off on the cozy bed.  My happy, shiny, naked feet were now covered in actual dog waste.  

So, now what?  I honestly lost all reasoning right there because I just could not believe my luck.  After coming back to the Hell of my reality, I tried to decide how to get absolutely anywhere in the house without making more of a mess.  So I did what anyone would have done in that situation (if there are that many), I crawled to the bathroom for some towels.  It was while cleaning all the nastiness off that I saw the extent of the damage, now on my hands, all over my feet and part of my legs.  Once clean I checked on the dog, just to see how his life was going, and he was curled up without a single care in the world, yawning and licking his chops.  And why not?  He doesn't have to do anything.  In fact, he was probably wondering why I wasn't cradling and petting him, trying to make him feel better.  No way, José.

I found cleaner under the sink and really scrubbed all the vomit out of the rug and wood and off the walls.  He must have gotten sick when the water was running in my bath because I never heard any of it.  By that point it had been 45 minutes of cleaning and gagging and a mix between laughing and crying.  The last thing I wanted at that point was another bath--I needed a shower.  Because of my long and relaxing bath there was no more hot water, so I rubbed my skin raw as quickly as I could while shivering.  

It had been over an hour since I first tried to go to bed, and I was wide awake.  The cleaning and shock and cold shower were all like having two cups of coffee or something.  I tried to turn on the TV, but the guide was stuck on the screen, making it impossible to see anything.

I spent the entire night waking up every half hour because the dog moved around so much and kept kicking me in the face.  I emailed my family the story in the morning, and I got a response from my brother, "is this a true story?"  Yes, unfortunately I can't make this up!  I think that was the last time I ever saw Huldy.