Hey, Siri!

'King Tut' of Victoria

At one of our home sits on beautiful Vancouver Island, we had the pleasure of caring for a handsome and cooperative cat.

“Tut”, who we affectionally called ‘King Tut’ was allusive at first but soon learned that Frank and I provided his food, water, special treats, and we cleaned his litter box regularly. He became an absolute delight once he got to know us.

The luxurious home also had a built-in computer network which managed the lights, door locks, the televisions and the cat door. 

Our view from Tut's home

King Tut had had an electronic device implanted into his ear and each time he walked near the cat door it presented a hissing sound.

“He hates it,” the homeowners told us. “So, you’ll have to watch for him at the back door.”

“No problem,” we chimed.

Frank at the back door

The networked home operated on automatic timers. At first, when Frank went to drag the garbage bin to the road, he was locked out. We learned to carry the house keys with us at all times.

One night, we chose to stay up late. At 11 p.m. all the indoor lights went off and a series of floor lights like those on an aeroplane lit up. We used that path to guide us down two flights of stairs, along an L-shaped hallway and into our bedroom.

As we passed the laundry room, day or night, the overhead light would flash on. After 5 minutes it turned off. To prevent a strobe-like sequence while the cat prowled at night, we slept with our door closed.

‘Siri’ proved to be an electronic bully. Her primary function was to provide us with music and news broadcasts.

Siri, behind the couch

“To operate Siri,” the homeowner said, “You have to say ‘Hey, Siri’ and then tell her what you want to listen to.”

Three days into the sit, I wanted to hear some familiar music.

“Hey, Siri,” I said, “Play Gordon Lightfoot.”

“Gordon Lightfoot. OK.”

After listening to a great arrangement of his most popular songs Siri opted to play some country music from her playlist.

“Hey, Siri, please turn off the music.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t recognize your voice.”

“Don’t recognize my voice? I turned you on with this voice.”

She continued to play her music.

“Hey, Siri! If you don’t shut off, I’m going to unplug your power cord and throw you over the balcony.”

The house went quiet.

Ready, Set, Go!

Courtesy of gettyimages

On several occasions, including one of our house sits in Surrey, British Columbia, the homeowners abruptly cancelled their vacation plans and returned home earlier than scheduled.

In this business, you sometimes have to make a quick getaway.

 Our notice to vacate came by email. "We'll be home in two days," it read. Our winter nest would have to be evacuated a hefty five weeks before the scheduled end of the sit.

When we have long-term sits which we calculate to be more than three weeks in the same house, we unload a good many of our personal belongings from our home, which is a 23’ RV.

Sensible Seasonal Clothes

I haul in my suitcase filled with seasonally appropriate clothes, my personal products and my hobby things including a puzzle and my embroidery materials. 

Music Makes Our World Go 'Round

Frank hauls in his clothes, his hygiene kit and his music instruments including his violin and piano keyboard.

We stack our groceries on the available kitchen counter space, place our perishables in the refrigerator and set our frozen food in the freezer.

If we’re sitting a dog, we’ll take her/him with us exploring the neighbourhood. It’s a great way to investigate the area. We especially enjoy hiking the back alleys. You can learn a lot about a neighbourhood by what's set out in the lane.

Back Alley Mirror

Back at the house, we set up our computers and hook into the owner’s wifi.

We run our lives seeking other house and pet sits. These days we refer to ourselves as hobby-farm specialists.

We are indifferent to how many pets the owner has, we love them all.

The adventure is to meet new people, care for family pets and enjoy our surroundings.

Life is a Highway ~ Tom Cochrane

Fifty-five Cats and Counting

A clowder of barn cats ~ courtesy of the Internet

For the last five years as a professional house and petsitting couple, we’ve cared for fifty-five felines.

A one-eyed cat, a grieving cat, sun-loving cats, a cat that sleeps in the shower stall, content cats, avoidance cats, dog-friendly cats, playful cats, indoor cats, and a clowder of twenty-four barn cats, five of which were housebound with cancer.

When we pulled into the driveway of the organic farm, the barn door was open. The homeowners were standing nearby. The woman had a kitten in her arms. When I approached her she held up the wee thing and asked if I wanted to kiss it. I didn’t. I gave it a tap on its head.

In the barn, she said there are 23 cats. We’ve learned since then that a group of cats is called a clowder or a glaring.

“Five sick ones are in the house,” she said.

When we entered their home the stench of cat urine cloaked us. The cats riddled with cancer were milling about waiting to be given their daily mediation. You could refer to this group of cats as destruction. The kitchen island was covered with tablet containers.

I glanced at the lower part of the walls which were covered in pee-pads. She noticed my gaze.

“ We’ve put these up to catch the spray from the cats. They can’t seem to control themselves,” she said. “Let me show you what to do if one of the cats dies.”

She opened the freezer compartment of the refrigerator and pushed apart two packages of frozen berries.

“Wrap the cat in a plastic bag and put it here,” she said. “Or, if you prefer, you can bury it in our cat cemetery.” 

The woman and I made our way through the bushes while her husband took Frank to the garage to show him some of the farm equipment.

As it happened, the owners were too sick to go on their vacation. We considered it a blessing.

We love cats.

A dog-loving cat

We love them more if they’re spayed or neutered. Even more, if they’re litter trained. And absolutely love it when their owners have provided a cat door.

A stuffed cat

“One cat just leads to another.” – Ernest Hemingway

Forty-five Dogs and Counting

Professional Dog Walker

Since 2015 we’ve cared for dogs, cats, horses, sheep, chickens, ducks, peacocks, parrots, budgies and turkeys.

We’ve fed, walked, groomed and petted over forty-five homeowner’s dogs, and picked up and disposed of their poop. 

We’ve cuddled and given various medications to different breeds of dogs.

On one solemn occasion, Frank sat with a Yorkshire Terrier on his lap as the veterinarian applied the euthanasia medication to end its life.

We’ve cared for friendly dogs, vicious dogs, obedient dogs and cute, fuzzy dogs. We’ve sat well-chiselled dogs, skinny dogs, wiry dogs, playful dogs and smelly dogs. We loved them all.

Deaf and Happy Dog

Frannie, a small mixed-breed deaf dog, managed herself cleverly on the leash by staying nearby. We walked her along a gravel road with minimal traffic and when a vehicle approached she stood still. We learned her habit and gladly accommodated her. The experience reminded me of how when I was a kid would shout “Car!” while playing road hockey. We knew what to do.

Abby the happy job-driven dog

Abby, an intuitive retriever was a hobby-farm dog. She paid close attention to her surroundings. When Frank took hold of the horses’ halters hanging on the wall, instinctively our clever companion would race to the grass field, gather the two horses and deliver them back to the stable. Her breed needs a purposeful job to do.

Liesl on the Left

Liesl, named after Liesl von Trapp, is a Shih Tzu. She was a motived by food and would be first in line to have her body collar put on and leash attached. The homeowner’s habit of rewarding their three dogs after returning from a walk with a treat became our routine.

We’ve learned over the years that dogs can remember their past experiences and learn from them. Although they do not think about the future and in this case, the reward of a treat in their future, Liesl, to some extent, thinks about the past and how when the walk is over she may be rewarded.

Bosco Jumps for Snowballs

Bosco, a purebred German Shephard did not get along with other animals. He wore a special “Dangerous Dog” license tag for having killed another dog and was not allowed outside his property without a leash. He barked incessantly at birds and planes flying overhead, at rodents bouncing around the trees in his yard and lunged at other dogs on our walks. We took him up and down an isolated road however other dog owners did the same.

Hershey (courtesy of owner)

Hershey, a senior purebred Chocolate Labrador was a handsome and calm dog. He waddles when he walks to compensate for his sore hips. His daily medication seemed to relieve some of the pain. He would turn around and around before he was confident enough to drop down on his padded bed.

Casey, the gentleman

Casey, a short-haired Terrier, was a gentleman on his walks. His owner had been told by her vet that he suffers from Canine Cognitive Dysfunction Syndrome, a brain disorder akin to Alzheimer’s disease. His howling and barking at night were keeping her awake. The owner's choice is to give him daily doses of Cannabidiol oil. We closely follow the medication instructions provided to us.

Leaving your dog in the company of a qualified and empathetic pet-sitter will relieve you from any feelings of regret or separation anxiety.

Happy Dog, Happy Home

Jonty's New Shoes

Frank and Jonty with the farriers

Jonty is a handsome horse who is owned and loved by his owners in Duncan, British Columbia.

We are happy to have been chosen to sit this hobby-farm. 

On Wednesday, a farrier fit Janty’s two front hooves with new metal shoes.

Shane The Farrier

As you may know, Frank was a farrier and was happy to assist by holding on to Jonty’s lead. It was a great chance for him to share some of his shoeing stories.

Frank shares farrier stories

The farrier first dug out the muck and other bits from Jonty’s hooves. The big brown mount stood calm and seemingly satisfied to be the centre of attention.

Farrier cleans Jonty's hoof

Shane placed two shoes into his propane forge. The heat turns the iron red hot and pliable. The horseshoe was put on an anvil and shaped with a large hammer.

Shane's propane forge

When it was pushed against the bottom of Janty's hoof, the searing metal caused a large plume of smoke. The steed didn’t react. His toe is much like our fingernails – no feelings.

Hot metal against Jonty's hoof

The farrier evaluated the shape of Jonty’s hoof several times and then hammered the shoe again to further customize its shape. His apprentice snipped a bit of the toe, filed it with a large sanding rasp, and dug out more grit from the body of the sole.

Apprentice uses sanding rasp

In the end, Shane hammered six nails each into Jonty’s two front hooves. Both the farrier and the horse seemed satisfied.

Farrier secures Jonty's shoe

There was a magical clop, clop, clop sound made by Jonty’s new shoes as Frank guided him over the concrete driveway on the way to his stall.

Jonty's New Shoe

Free-Range Freedom

Free-range chickens

Directing chickens is like herding cats.

Preventing turkeys from roosting on the sundeck is like keeping cats from jumping on furniture.

Getting ducks into their pen before dusk is like convincing an indoor/outdoor cat to come in at night.

On July 15, 2019, we arrived at our hobby-farm sit in the Duncan district. We were welcomed by a young adventurous couple and their three rambunctious boys. Their large farmhouse was being masterfully crafted by the homeowners and naturally claimed by the young kids and their large brown dog, Hershey.

Sheep and turkeys share a field

Outdoors, we were introduced to the sheep eating and drinking within a fenced-in field. A short walk away the homeowners opened the chicken coop door to reveal a few hens roosting.

“You can gather the eggs from here,” the poultry farmer said.

He described the early morning feeding routine and how to try to corral the hens at dusk to bring them to the barn.  The two roosters would find their own way back to the barn he said.

Closer to the house was the duck pen. It was empty with the exception of one of the females roosting.

We had disturbed her and the sweet duck fluttered out and waddled to the small nearby pond.

Ducks are very organized

“The ducks come in a little later, after dusk, around ten o’clock. You’ll have to close their pen using this guillotine mechanism.” The woman laughed at her reference as she pulled a thick rope which forced the wooden flap to slam shut.

When we arrived back at the house there were two hens and four chicks perched on the sundeck.

Hens and chicks roost on the balcony

“We lost all of our turkeys several years ago. These two gals showed up at the end of spring and so we’ve been feeding them. Their getting used to us,” the homeowner said.

Frank is the farmer and gets up early. He performs most outdoor chores while I make meals and maintain the inside of the home.

♪ Well I got me a fine wife I got me an ole fiddle 

When the sun's comin' up I got porridge on the griddle 

Life ain't nothin' but a funny, funny riddle 

Thank God I'm a country boy ♪

Oh, A Cattery!

Cats drink from fish tank

We faked our way into this house and pet sit. The homeowner explained to Frank and me over the phone that she operates a cattery.

“I breed cats. They’re Orientals. Two males live in the garage. You don’t have to go in there. I have someone who comes over and feeds them and fills their water dish,” she says.

“There is a mother cat and her three kittens in one of the bedrooms. You’re responsible for cleaning their litter, filling the mother’s dish with hard food and setting out soft food for the kittens. They share the water bowl.”

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, we’re listening,” Frank says.

“Okay. What’s most important is that you don’t let the mother cat out of that room. She’s very aggressive and it’s difficult to catch her.”

We listen carefully as she describes the lifestyle of her other two cats, spayed and neutered.

She tells us of her two medium-sized dogs, one who is hyper and wears a shock collar because of his incessant barking and the other who follows his habits.

We arrive late afternoon and walk through the house listening to her explain the importance of each animal.

Her three large fish tanks are pushed against the walls in the dining room.

The mother cat, hidden kittens

The stench wafting from under one of the bedroom doors overwhelms the lemon-scented deodorizer hanging from the doorknob. We step inside and are hissed at by the skinny mother feline as she scampers under the bunkbed. Her kittens squeak.

“If you don’t want the other cats to sleep with you, you need to keep the master bedroom door closed,” she says.

With a few written instructions in hand, we stand at the front door and wave goodbye to the homeowner.

Only two incidents are worth mentioning. First, I forgot to close the master bedroom door one morning and one of the ‘regular’ cats jumped on the bed and pooped. Another day, Frank forgot to close the door to the cattery and sure enough, the mother cat escaped. We set up a low jumpable barrier at the cattery door which the mother hopped over easily and returned to her darlings.

Life is a cabaret!