News and a new idea

So this coming Sunday I was supposed to receive my new baby, Bubbles. She would only be about 6 1/2 weeks. In my head I knew this was a little too early but how my heart wanted to cuddle her. Now I hear from my breeder that I will have to wait another week for her. I understand. I know. I have had children myself and know the rules and regulations. I've had puppies and know that waiting is important. I know I am going to go crazy. Soooooooooooo...........in the interest of keeping my head, I am taking inspiration from the book, Julie and Julia by Julie Powell. I am currently reading this book and can't wait to see if the movie world bastardizes it like My Sister's Keeper. I am going to start including in this blog, the vicarious adventures of my life as a dog walker. I don't live in the City where you see a solitude person laden with ample leashes attached to an assortment of dogs. I live in the suburbs where money is the solution for every problem that you may encounter. I'm not one of the money throwers, I'm more of a money catcher and I'm learning to catch all the pitches. My daughter is the actual dog walker but I go along as back up and to step in when there is a really precarious situation. Believe me, this is not a job for the faint of heart. This brings me to a little tale I'll call Yappy, yap, hot damn, God Bless those bigger dogs!
Off we go to this house in a wealthy little hamlet to feed and play with these two dachshund dogs. The owners are away on vacation and, from the looks of things; they are an older couple who consider these little darlings as their grandchildren. Specific instructions are left for us. What to feed the dogs, where the treats are, how long to let them run wild and free, and a special "please" to clean up any little accidents that may have occurred before we arrived--complete with Swiffer Wet-Jet. Understand that these McMansion people all hide their keys for us various peons like cleaning ladies and painters to access their house whenever necessary. I think this one concept truly separates the wealthy from the poor. I may not have much, but what I have, I treasure and keep under lock and key! Now, I should mention that people leave instructions but some like to play games with your head. Case in point: the key is under the mat in front of the house. Guess where the key actually is? Hint, not under the mat. It is in the flower pot. Of course we don't know this so we decide to walk around to the back of the house to check all of those mats in front of the very many entrances you can access from the back. Naturally, Yippy and Yappy spot us and the fun begins. Personally, I never knew dachshunds could fly. Should that come up in Jeopardy, the answer is yes, but they fly straight up and the yapping never stops. Ok, so we finally get the key and enter the house. Finally is 15 minutes later. I am convinced someone saw us snooping around and that the police are on their way but here we are. Now Yippy and Yappy are afraid and are doing nothing but yapping. Poop and pee is everywhere but those are just the bonus rewards. We have to open the back door and let these guys out. Here folks are where we made our critical mistake. I am used to bulldogs and spaniels with a sprinkling of setters and beagles thrown in for good measure. Yippy and Yappy run outside and are yapping and yipping their heads off the entire time. They are hiding under bushes and beneath decks. They are joined in their strategic move of not returning to the house. Food means nothing to them. Their purpose is but to yip. How are we going to get them back in? Don't worry, a plan is in effect. My daughter will corner one of them and I will spring forth just as it runs by and tackle it gently and swoop it into my arms. Yeah right. This move would have required the grace of a prima ballerina, the speed of a road runner, and the tenacity of a linebacker. I am none of those. All this gets us is more yipping and yapping. We decide, in our combined intelligence, to re-enter the kitchen and wait the little buggers out. That's when it happened.
We hear a knock at the front door. My daughter tells me, "Don't answer it." She, like me, is paralyzed with fear. Yippy and Yappy are still outside yipping and yapping. Next we hear a key in the lock and the tumble of that lock followed by a strong push in of the door. I do what any mother would do. I stand in front of my daughter to block the surely impending hail of bullets and declare in my best Wonder Woman voice, "We are the dog walkers." In steps this handsome young man who informs us that he is the son and stops by periodically while his parents are away. Here you may be wondering why he can't just feed and let out the dogs. Don't be crazy, these people have money and there are people who would actually do this for you. I confess that we can't get these little darlings back in the house, but don't worry they have used the facilities, (I luckily Swiffered everything up before he arrived!) and had their treats. He sits on the deck and states how nervous they are but that he could get them in. He promptly calls them to him, and one of the little creatures comes to her master and nips him right on the hand. We took this as our curtain call. We asked son of the McMansion's if he would get them back in and he gave us our ok to leave. You never saw two people exit as quickly as we did. This is why I don't let my daughter go on her own. I don't know what son of McMansion is capable of. To me, its a bad sign when your own dog nips your hand. They have a way of getting to the root of someone's character. Anyway, we took our wages to purchase new underwear.
I told you, this line of work is not for the faint of heart.
I must go, leashes and four-legged friends await.