A Mouse in the House

"Honey, what's that noise?" I say.

"It's mice chewing on the mattress. Grab your pillow, we'll sleep on the couch upstairs," Frank says.

Three days prior, we had arrived at a scheduled house and pet-sit on a small farm just outside the Hamlet of Islay, Alberta.

“Hey. Hi. Welcome,” says our newest client. She extends her hand to me and I shake it enthusiastically. She turns to Frank and says hello. Her young daughter, a mystery breed of cat, and a Mai-shi dog are standing with her.

“We’re so happy that you’ve come. That’s Koda.” She is pointing to the male Staffordshire Terrier tethered to a large tree by a thick chain and barking at the top of his lungs.

“He’s harmless although he does have a pretty ferocious bark,” she says.

I release her friendly grip and walk with her and Frank toward the dog. His tail is wagging and he seems happy. 

Frank and I have learnt not to approach a strange animal, especially if it is tied up or on a leash. We hold back and wait for its owner to stand beside it and grip its chain close to its neck.

Susan with Koda

“You can pet him if you want,” the little girl says.

We move a bit closer and immediately it puts its ears back, curls its tail between its legs and lets out a large yelp spewing saliva between its lips. The owner laughs but does not correct the behaviour. Days later, on our own with the animal, we earn its trust by taking him on long walks and rewarding his cooperation with scratches under his chin.

“Come into the house,” the homeowner says.

Great Pyrenees

She steps through the porch area where the Terrier sleeps at night. We can hardly hear what she is saying – the yapping of two over-the-top excited Great Pyrenees-Border Collie cross dogs are drowning her out. They leap recklessly at Frank and me. They’re held back by a plastic door gate. One is beige with caramel coloured ears and the other is white with a black patch on its left eye. They’re working hard at getting over the barrier – their intention is to get to us.

“You can pet them if you want,” the young girl says.

Frank puts his hand on my shoulder to relax my anxiety. I don’t like lunging, jumping, barking, uncontrolled dogs and here are two of them.

Border Collie

“These are the puppies I was telling you about,” the owner says. “They are very excitable.” 

She turns to her 19-year-old son and directs him to get their leashes. I hear the click of metal on metal but I’m not reassured that they are under control. In a flash, my worst fear comes true. The homeowner opens that gate and both dogs lunge at us pushing us back with their paws. They are standing on their hind feet. Instinctively, I raise my knee at Dot and then at Sophie. The teenager is struggling to control them.

“Dot, Sophie, stop!” the owner says. She takes the leads and pulls them both toward her. “They’re just puppies and are very excitable. I’ll bring them outside. They can go into their kennel.”

Frank the Dog Walker

Throughout our stay, they pushed, pulled, barked, and lunged at one another, Frank and me, and Koda. Koda’s gentleman-like mannerisms on a leash did not influence the two wide-eyed sisters. We walked all three large dogs every day.

“We also have three cats. Joker stays outside and hunts for his food; Charley eats mice and stuff and also comes inside for the cat food. Tipper, who we think is a Siamese, is sick with ulcers. We feed her the soft food. And, Baby, our little white dog, has cancer. We’ve stopped bringing them to the vet,” the owner says.

Frank and I exchange a straight-faced glance at one another. We hope for the best.

Sunny the Arabian Horse

Outside again, the owner brings us to meet ‘Sunny’, their lame Arabian mare. She’s a brown beauty with that strong bone structure common to the breed. She approaches us in a friendly stroll and stops at the well-chewed fence. We are instructed to feed her specific nutrient-filled pellets and to keep her water trough full.

“You can pet her if you want,” the sweet girl says.

Frank and I stroke her narrow face and sleek neck. She remains still and takes in the admiration and touch of the human race.

It was the best of times. The panoramic view from their front porch was breathtaking. The pitch-black nights presented a sky filled with star constellations, and the evening silence was broken only by the scampering sounds made by mice between the basement and upstairs floor.

The owner’s whispered message to me in their backyard, ‘We have mice’ comes to mind now. It never occurred to me that they lived in her house.

View from the front porch

Blessed Is The Spot