Momnesia

Stacey Hudson: Pet Detective

AUGUSTA, GA. - So I'm pet-sitting for a co-worker with two dogs, one cat, two birds and two fish. Sounds like a lot, but animals I'm fine with. It's plants that tremble in my presence. Scott used to try to keep plants when we were first married. After a while, even the cactus died. It was me, trust me, Scott thought so, too. "Stop looking at the plants!" he would shriek. "They know!"

We don't have anymore plants. But we have managed to raise a puppy and a toddler with few problems. There was that stomach ache the dog had, but he got over it.

So they leave on Wednesday, and I go over during Emmie's nap time on Thursday. When I get there, only Porkchop waddles out to greet me. Uh-oh. Usually I'm greeted with great symphonnic fanfare (read: howling).

"Sydney!" I call. "Come here, baby!"

I struggle with the lock on the back door, afraid the key will snap off in my hand. I remember that they only have one key to the house, and that they were forced to climb in a window the last time I pet-sat, because I took the key with me. Calling a locksmith would be slightly more work, so I hold my breath. In the quiet - as I've now stopped talking to myself but not the voices in my head - I hear a high-pitched whining.

I lean over and peek in the doggie door. "Sydney?" I don't see her, but I hear the metal fence rattling. There she is, standing just outside the chain-link fence.

"What are you doing, silly?" I ask. She wags her tail and I unlatch the gate to let her in. She slinks in and wanders mournfully around the backyard. She won't come near me, and won't let me pet her. I decide to let her alone. Better not to force it.

I'm careful to watch for Petey, the cat, who likes to slip out as people slip in the back door. No sign of the feline. Porkchop waddles in with me. The birds are twittering, and Porkchop takes noisily off, galumphing up the stairs.

I check the food and water levels for the dogs, the cat, and the birds, then head upstairs behind the snuffling canine to feed the fish.

Wait... Where are the fish?

Window. And Windowlina. Names easily discerned to have been awarded by a 6-year-old. But now they are gone from the aquarium that sits in her room. I sprinkle fish food in the water and wait for the hungry mouths to appear.

Nothing.

I peer in between the "decorative" rocks, plants and cartoonish structures. No fish. Concerned, I take off the top to look for floaters. Nothing.

**gasp!** PETEY! Oh, god. The cat ate the fish.

I scramble through the house, panicked, looking for the cat as best I can without invading the owners' privacy. No cat. And what would I do if I found him? Pump his stomach? Oh, crap. The cat ate the fish and then escaped.

I run outside to check the area they told me he'd be: first the closet in the mudroom, then the crawl space under the house. No cat.

The cat is gone. The cat is dead. I killed Nola's cat.

Just then, I realize the yard is quiet. Too quiet. Sydney is gone again.

GAH! They've entrusted me with their house, their beloved pets, they've been gone one day and I've already screwed the whole thing up! They're going to kill me.

I spend about 45 minutes driving around looking for Sydney and Petey. I come back to the house and see Sydney waiting at the gate and let her back in with a mild scolding. I search the yard to see how she got out, and I can't find anything. I conclude that the gate must have been improperly latched and take extra care to close it behind me as I leave. I have a turkey in the oven, after all. The cat will just have to wait.

I return that evening, after everyone has gone to bed at my house and the dishes are (mostly) done. Sydney is cuddled in the mud room with Porkchop, and I see evidence that the cat has been eating his food, so I know he's in the house.

But the fish are still gone.


I return the next day to check on everyone. Sydney's gone again, but she's back within minutes. I try desperately to bend the fence back in, thinking that she's squeezing out through the small gap where it doesn't quite match up with the rest of the fence - and I double-check the yard for escape routes. It HAS to be the gate!

The cat's still eating, even though he's turned invisible, and I go upstairs to gaze hopefully, hopelessly, into the fish tank. How will I tell a 6-year-old that her goldfish are with Jesus? Do they have aquariums in heaven? How do the clouds support them? Actually, that might explain some of Britain's weirder weather.

Anyway, maybe the fish are hiding among the stuff. I feed the water diligently and consider making a run to Petsmart. Were they solid orange fish, or were they splotchy? Was there one of each? Oh, Window and Windowlina! I'm so sorry in your death that I didn't pay more attention to you in life!

Maybe a gift card, and she can pick out her own fish, I muse, as I stare out their cool window at the street below. And there goes Sydney. Crap! better get this stuff fixed before they get back or someone gets hurt.

Okay, fine, before a mammal gets hurt.


The next day is more of the same. Where is Sydney? There she is. Where is the cat? No idea. Phantom cat eats invisible foods. Where is Sydney? Oh, she came back.

Porkchop is never hard to find, and birds stay in their damn cage like they're supposed to. So two of the five animals are behaving for me. That only works out to (mumblemumble)%. That's not a passing grade.

Finally, it's Sunday. I think. I've kind of lost track as to where I am in the story...

Anyway, still no cat, that ate the fish, which are gone, and Sydney is all kinds of magic with the escaping like Houdini thing. I don't know how to stop this train wreck and I seriously consider calling Tom and quitting rather than work with someone who hates me for breaking her daughter's heart by setting up her fish for doom. But replacing the fish is all too Saved By the Bell for me, so I just decide to suck it up and own up to it...

maybe. I still have some time before they get home.

I wring my hands and gnash my teeth and worry myself into non-action. So I show up on their doorstep that evening all, "Hey! How was the trip! It's so great to see you! Happy Thanksgiving! Merry Christmas! Happy Kwanzaa! Uh... Happy New Year's and Happy Valentine's Day! Super great! Awesome! Sorry the fish are dead! Pretty Christmas tree! Cool! Love you guys! See you later! Woo-hoo!" like the giant spazmatron that I am.

They tell me that the damn fish died weeks ago.