Prime Time

My big plans for this gorgeous Friday evening will be to prime the beast living on my patio in the form of a dresser. Tomorrow morning I hope to wake up and be able to get at least a coat of paint on it, go have brunch with Meghan, get another coat of paint on it, and then chill until it's time for my babysitting gig. Sunday, another coat of paint, if necessary, then hardware installation in the evening. If it's not too stinky, I'll move it into the apartment before another babysitting gig.

I've got two babysitting gigs this weekend. For a while I was on a pet-sitting streak, but the tide seems to have turned toward small humans in need of my special blend of temporary TLC. I'm cool with this. You might think pet-sitting is easier than babysitting and to that I would say, "Nay, that would be incorrect." They're both equally hard and equally easy. Of course, it helps if the pets/small humans you're watching out for actually speak English.

The last two doggies I have cared for came from Spanish-speaking homes. Guera, the golden I previously featured in a blog post which I am too lazy to link to, understood both English and Spanish. I think. If she was faking it, she did it very well.

Then there was Tana, and she came from a home where her owners spoke Spanish almost exclusively. Her mommy explained to me as she rushed off to the airport that Tana responds quicker to Spanish. Hence, we ran into some difficulties early on, with me trying every Spanish word I could remember that might, in some way, compel MOVEMENT away from whatever disgusting pile of goo she was investigating. I tried, "Tana! Vamos!" Nothing.

I tried cajoling tones. I tried stern tones. I tried pulling on her leash, all to no effect. She is a basset hound-labrador mix. Go ahead, I'll give you a minute to work out in your mind how exactly that particular interlude went down. So, anyway, she ended up with the big body of a yellow lab and the short legs of the basset hound. Big body, short legs, low center of gravity, very ineffective leash-pulling.

Finally, searching my brain hard, and wanting to get that dog away from a steaming pile of goo, I yelled, "Tana! Mira!" She looked up and we trotted on toward home. All those years in the hood have finally paid off!

I'm not sure how all that relates to priming my dresser, but now you know what it's like to pet-sit a dog who doesn't understand English.

You're welcome.