Trials and Tribulations of a Pet Sitter by Laura Marchant
Hilarious
and heart warming true stories of a Pet Sitter.
Laura
takes us on her journey describing the immense
joy that the animals have brought into her life. But
it’s not all fun and games. With sometimes as many as ten
dogs around her home, things can get
a tad hectic. Not to forget the every day
challenges faced in keeping the pets happy and
safe when out walking. Luckily she is not alone
in her quest; her unusually dominant Golden Retriever
‘Brece’ is always by her side. Brece earns her
keep by convincingly playing the part of the alpha
female, ensuring harmony amongst the pack.
At
times, the responsibility that Laura faces becomes overwhelming. She
may think she has everything covered but that hand of fate could
quite easily swoop down, creating havoc for her and the dogs. Laura
has endured many close calls and teetered on the precipice of
disaster may a time. The longer she continues with her pet sitting
enterprise, the more likely hood that total disaster will actually
strike. Is she tempting fate?
Laura
Marchant is the Bridget Jones of the pet sitting world!
This is an
extract from a third of the way into the book. Here
I start to write about ‘the gang’, a
selection of my daily regulars that I walk. I pick 5 dogs to talk
about their personalities in detail. (some of whom are pictured on
the front page). This section is about Hendrix; brown Springer
Spaniel as featured on the front cover.
‘Hendrix
and Wasabi, my dynamic duo, the two of them are best buddies, they
absolutely adore being in each other’s company. It is such a joy to
watch them in their play, their happiness is incredibly infectious.
On the dunes, they play chase, and hide and seek. But Hendrix's
favourite trick is ambushing his mate. Running ahead of the pack he
takes cover lying in wait until Wasabi catches up. Whilst Wasabi is
looking for his buddy, Hendrix then strategically picks his moment
and pounces on him. Hendrix has his combat manoeuvres off to a fine
art and always manages to startle his buddy by catching him off
guard.
Amongst
all his positive attributes there is one slight negative, which
happens when we come to the end of every single walk. Not wanting his
fun to come to an end, Hendrix jumps up on top of a dune taking the
higher ground, he refuses point blank to move off it and get into the
car, all the while looking at me with his indomitable stare.
When
I see that look in his eyes
I know I am going to have a job getting him into the car. In the
past, it was relatively easy to coax him down off his castle with the
aid of treats. But being a smart little fellow he quickly learned
that if he took the treat, I would truss him up. He wasn’t going to
fall into that trap again. Instead he
sits alone on his
dune looking at me defiantly through his teddy bear glass eyes,
refusing the treats. As the treats clearly weren’t working, I moved
on to random sticks that were lying around. Again, the sticks worked
for a while, but they too had a lifespan. It didn’t take long for
him to realise the treats had been exchanged for sticks.
Once
the sticks failed, I moved on to his beloved ball. Diligently
dropping it near to me, in the hope that while he was trying to catch
the ball, I could catch him. Again, this worked initially but not for
long, in the end he had become immune to my entire repertoire of
deceptions, more creativity on my part was required. I suppose his
reluctance to get in the car is quite amusing, but when short of time
or on a hot day with dogs slowly baking inside the car, the humorous
side of the situation eludes me.
It
was the end of one of our morning walks, Hendrix was being his usual
stubborn self, sat on a dune and refusing point black to get into to
the car. I doubt a fillet steak would have persuaded him. To make
matters worse, he
suddenly caught sight of a man with a ball launch who was at the far
end of the car park and worryingly, close to a busy road. On a
mission, he surged towards the irresistible sight in front of his
eyes. Panicking at this point, the awful scenario of him running out
into the road flashed through my head. I needed a new trick up my
sleeve to stop him running towards the road, and it had to work.
There was absolutely no point in drawing on any of my old tricks,
they weren’t going to cut the mustard, an original fool proof plan
was called for. Then suddenly and instinctively, without a second
thought I flung myself onto the ground, and started flailing around,
making mock painful yelling noises. I surprised myself.
Lying
on the ground still yelling, I prayed Hendrix’s pack instinct would
kick in and that his concern would outweigh his desire for the ball.
From the corner of my eye, I could see that he had stopped dead in
his tracks, he was standing stationary, clearly in two minds as to
what he should do, ball or me? I kept still, motionless, it was
imperative to keep up the charade, if he saw me move, he may think I
was okay, then resume his quest to get to the ball. But he’s a
clever little chap, would he be fooled by my ruse? Thankfully he was,
his curiosity got the better of him. Still rigid and lying on the
ground I could see that he was skulking back towards me, head bent
and sniffing
the ground. He approached me and gently started to sniff my face,
with that I quickly sat up, grabbed him by the collar, and managed to
leash him. Thank God my desperate trick worked. It was a great relief
but also acutely embarrassing once I realised that my little drama
had attracted the attention of a couple of onlookers, who were
presumably wondering what the hell I was doing and asked me if I was
okay. I refer to this as my 'last resort' stunt and prefer not to
have to draw on it unless in dire straits, it’s my least favourite
of all tricks.
Gradually,
I learned that the best and least embarrassing way to catch Hendrix
was to pretend we were going back on the beach for another walk. He
likes this idea, so off we go on our faux walk. After a couple of
minutes when his guard is down, I then have a chance to catch him and
rein the little ragamuffin back in. Heading back to the car I feel
relieved, but also slightly mean that I have tricked him, robbing him
of further fun.’
Laura
Marchant was born in 1959 in the seaside resort of Lytham St Annes,
Lancashire, England. Both her parents were born in the same town, so
not exactly a family of intrepid travellers! As a child Laura and her
siblings were fortunate enough to own shares in the families pets.
Unbeknown to Laura at the time, her love for the animals formed the
blueprint for a large part of her life. In 2011 she finally found her
vocation, and in the comfort of her own home, set up a pet boarding
business. For the next 7 years she shared her abode with a pack of
dogs. A lot of this time was spent watching over the animals and
observing their behaviour, which in turn inspired her to write her
first novel 'Trials and Tribulations of a Pet Sitter'.
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