About the Dogs
“Give me the bread.”
“Aaron, where are your manners?”
“Mom.” I stretch out the word, “it’s not like i’m eating with the Queen of England.”
“Honey,” she replies firmly.
“Fine, can you please pass the bread?” I say as I roll my eyes.
“How was your day.” I shield my eyes while my dad is talking through a mouthful of food. Every single day they ask me the same question and every single day they get the same answer,
“Good.” There must be a little computer in there head that makes them ask me it, they ask me in a monotone voice, just like a computer would.
“We went to a seminar at your school.” My mom said a little too cheerily. My parents shouldn’t have known about this, I tore the flyer in the mail to shreds. The seminar was enforcing the idea that kids should have to work to get what they want. Work, the idea of it makes me sick, there is a reason we have nerds in this world. “We were enlightened, the student council is wonderful, you should really consider joining them.” My mom rudely interrupted my internal rant.
“A, by enlightened don’t you mean brainwashed? B, joining student council would mean sitting with the band geeks”
“Aaron, don’t be sarcastic, we have already talked about this.” My mom says, she is oblivious to a fault.
“It’s the truth.” I mumble and sink into my chair.
“What was that boring thing about? I fell asleep.” My Dad and I both understood one thing, anything related to school is boring.
“Well I hope you enjoyed your nap, you’ll have more than enough energy to clean the kitchen after were done eating.” I’ve never seen this side of my mom before. “The seminar was about earning what you get, therefore I have made the decision that Aaron will have to buy his own clothes, after all university is only two years away.” My jaw drops and my anger spikes.
“NO,NO, you can not do this to me, I will have to miss so many parties! I will have no free time! Work, work, work, this nightmare you speak of, it is impossible. I WILL NOT WORK!” I scream at them and their medieval theories.
“I can see his point.” Thank you Dad, the soothing voice of reason.
“You never went to parties in the first place.” My mom snaps back. My Dad’s ego shrunk while he faded away into the background pretending to get a drink.
“Aaron Dylan Taylor, you will work,” she hold up my wallet, “especially when you don’t have this.” She says with a sly smile stolen from the devil.
“But the new Sperry Topsiders are out, and everyone has them.” I wish we were in a courtroom and I had a lawyer, I would charge her with human cruelty.
“No.” She is so stubborn, “now go and find a job.” I stomp off as loudly as I can and viciously slam the door to my room.
All my attempts to try and avoid work failed. Trying to get my wallet back didn’t work, I discovered that my Dad controls nothing in the house and that my friends are useless. I go to my last resort, Siri, which sadly might involve working.
“Siri, what is easiest and quickest way to get money?”
“Would you like me to look that up for you?” She replies.
“Here is yahoo answers.” She says while a web page pops up, it reads:
I’m 15 and don’t have a fake ID.
2. look for things in the trash and sell it at thrift stores
3. Get a job, you will receive a paycheck in 2-3 weeks.
Did you forget about quick, and easy? Read the question.
4. Online surveys. 10-30$ a day.
30. Dog sitting. Act very nice. All you have to do is pour food into a bowl.
What could be easier? I figure that the rich people would pay me more so I stay in my neighborhood. I ring the doorbells of the people with nice cars, new Cadillacs are everywhere.
“Hello Sir, are you going on any vacations soon? I ask with a big smile.
“Go away, stalker.” He says.
Well, that didn’t go as planned. I say to myself as I pull into a cobblestone driveway. Leading to a house similar in size to mine. The perfectly flat cobblestone forks around a circular fountain with a statue of some person with bad fashion sense. I stop my car next to the owners of the house three cars,Now I realize how nice four Cadillac’s look together. After I get out I walk through the perfectly trimmed hedge jungle leading towards the three towering arches loom over the doorway house. Money lives here, and probably goes away very often.
“Hello sir, are you in need of any dog or cat sitting services?” I ask the man dressed in a navy blue work suit, peeking through a crack in the door, his face was tomato red, and his hand was shaking.
“I’m sorry, I..I I have to go, by.” That man was one of the many examples why working is bad, after I closed the door I a voice yell,
“Hurry up Michael, I need that report!”
As I drove to the third house I realized that I could have done so much better begging, I forgot to make my eyes red, fake an injury, and talk liked I had a stuffed up nose.
“Hello sir, are you in need of any dog or cat sitting services?” I ask with a smile plastered on my face. The man must be unreasonably hot in this normal Florida weather, wearing pants, hiking boots,and a neon ski jacket. The man said in a rushed and loud voice,
“Yes, yes, yes.” then mumbled, “thankgod.” When a women wearing a fleece popped in to the doorway and chimed in,
“The dog food is over there and the checklist with what you do is there. Our normal dog sitter just qui-” She said
“The two golden retrievers are Vail and Aspen, I mean Carmel and Bosco. The yorkie is Bronx.” THe man interrupted her.
“I’m Jen Bischoff and he’s Nevil Abell. We’ll be back in a five days. Here’s our number and the keys.” she said as she handed me a piece of paper and a keychain. Jeez they need to calm down and get some respectable clothing. Not even a second passed before they ran out the door knocking me over with their bags. It wasn’t long after I heard Nevil scream at Jen,
“WE FORGOT THE MITTENS”
As soon as I turned the key to Nevil and Jen’s house I immediately heard the sound of claws scratching the wood floor and small barks nearing me. The inside of the house was filled with photos of Nevil and Jen on the top of mountains, deserts, and many of them with their dogs. Before I could take two steps into the house all of the dogs rushed up to me, I jump my way over paws so they wouldn’t step on my shoes to the counter where the checklist was. Only then did I notice that the dogs had slobbered all over my new jeans the slime would not come off, I could never wear these again. Theses dogs are appalling, and so are the people, dirty dishes strewn on the counter, used tissues on the floor, I was about to barf. The Dog sitting checklist was speckled with bit of food? Slobber? It read:
Feed the Dogs
Give Carmel her medicine, its on the counter
Take them outside and play with them, don't forget their leashes.
On Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays take them to the dog park on applewood dr.
This is so much work I’ll just take them to a kennel. Except, I have no money because of a stupid parenting seminar led by people who don’t even know what it is like to be a parent. “How can they give advice?” But they can, just because they are on student council parents think the world of them. It’s not fair.
Okay, feed the dogs, the disgusting creatures who don’t deserve anything. Do they expect me to carry the 40lb food bag all the way over to the food bowl? This is abuse. While I do this the Dogs attack me again, getting fur on my polo, and mud on my shoes, I kick them away but they just keep coming back, it’s like they feel no pain. Finally I get the food in the food bowl, that will occupy them for a while. I sit back and look at my phone while they eat, I look at Instagram, all the captions are, “fun day shopping.” “Got some sweet kicks.” The mental attack stops but the physical one attack starts again, the dogs are licking my hands and getting fur on my clothes.
Next, Give carmel her medicine. The medicine is on the counter, but where, as I sort through the rubble on the counter I occasionally find a dollar or two, but mostly it’s half eaten leftovers, with a large side of mold. The medicine are pink pills, directions - give one with a meal, this should be easy. Which dog is Carmel?
“Carmel” They all respond with barks. I go to the other side of the kitchen and say again, “Carmel” one of the Golden retrievers walks forward. When she gets to me I hold out my hand giving her the pill, she licks my hand, and I jump back too feet, don’t these people train their dogs, because they need to know what personal space is. The stupid dog made me jump and lose her pill, now it’s under chair making friends with dust bunnies. I get another pill and through it on the ground next to her, she sniffs it then walks away. Oh well, I think. Then I see the writing on the bottle, Do not miss a dosage, that may result in diarrhea and other problems. Carmel will eat that pill. As I grab her collar Bronx starts barking furiously at me. Carmel tries to get away from me instead I shove the pill in her mouth, along with my hand, I feel like my entire body is covered in slobber and old food bits, horrendous. Mission Accomplished,not the way I wanted it to be.
Next on the checklist made by the devil - is to take the dogs outside and play, with leashes on. When I try and pick up Bronx to put her leash on she claws me and bites my ear, drawing blood. Finally I get the leash on her, surprisingly it is very easy to put Carmel and Bosco’s leashes on. Holding three leashes is going to be tough. As I drag them out the door and onto the lawn they all stare at me with hopeful eyes, they know what day it is, and I have never wanted it to be Saturday less than that very moment. Saturday meant going to the dog park. The dog park was three dreadful blocks from the house. Three blocks of getting pulled, pushed, and ear piercing barking from Bronx, three solid minutes of barking already and going on four, he barks at everything including me.
“SHUT UP” I yell at him. It doesn’t stop, Carmel and Bosco join in. I can see the neighbors closing their windows on the cool North Carolina air. The barking gets louder and louder as I get closer and closer to the park. Once I get to the dog park I let them loose and just sit, watching the chaos of hundreds of dogs together.
“Hi” a man walks up to me and says
“um, Hi” I reply, who is this guy?
“Are you dog-sitting Carmel, Bosco, and Bronx?” This guy is just weird, he is smiling in the midst of chaos and has a fu manchu mustache.
“Who are you?” I ask, not really wanting the answer just wanting to get out of here.
“I’m Jim, Nevils friend, I see your dog-sitting for them” He replies and my heart beats faster, small talk is closing in.
“Yes, and...” I can’t think of an excuse to go away.
“Don’t you just love them. My dog is Boxer. Seeing all the dogs so happy out there just makes me smile” What is this guy a dog enthusiast, even worse than dogs. The small talk continued until he had to go a dog training class, it was dreadful. I will only have to do this until the student councils brainwash wears off my parents. I had to endure four more days of slobber and small talk, the dogs have probably ruined more clothes than I can buy now.
“How were the dogs?” Jen asks me in a bright and cheery voice, looks like someone had a good trip.
“They were great, absolutely wonderful” I plaster a smile on my face and talk in my nicest voice.
“Here’s 90 dollars, thankyou so much for doing this” Jen says. With hard grey eyes I say,