Corgi Heaven

Usually, no one ever asks me to babysit their kids, fur babies, or even to stop by to water their plants.

For good reason. Although I generally like all three, I don’t have any of my own. I’ve tried with plants. Even those plants that other people with green thumbs say can’t be killed. They haven’t seen my best effort to keep plants alive, which eventually leaves them dead.

Fortunately for me, my friend’s usual dog sitter wasn’t available. There’s very little to break up my weekly routine, even though I live in TX, where the governor has declared us “fully open.” That’s such warm welcome for an emerging superspreader event. At least this opportunity allowed me to safely leave my apartment and normal routine in what felt like a mini spring break.

I spent nearly 48 hours dog sitting. For most of the waking hours, I binged watched Amazon Prime while writing or illustrating along with my two corgi companions, who had very different personalities as I quickly learned now that their humans were temporarily gone.

Introducing, Mr. Sensitive.

Those piercing brown eyes stared me down until I gave the signal (two quick pats on the sofa) for him to hop up and join me.

With a total disregard for whichever device I had at the time–a laptop for writing; an iPad for illustrating–Mr. Sensitive edged those things out of my lap to cuddle. To be clear, he’s NOT a lap dog. Dogs that are so heavy that they put one’s leg asleep cannot pull that off. After rubbing his fur while simultaneously protecting my device, I gently guided Mr. Sensitive beside me where he curled up.

Next up, Little Bad Butt.

She’s not really bad bad. She’s that kid who knows when the substitute human doesn’t know all the rules.

And that foxlike coloration is so appropriate. Notice that over-the-shoulder glance. The look to see if I’m paying attention because she’s got an idea. She took my visit as an “I’m-gonna-get-away-with-some-shit” field day.

Since Mr. Sensitive was usually too upset to eat more than a few nibbles of food, Little Bad But had this coy way of casually strolling over to his food bowl. Then, she’d look back at me, then back to her brother’s bowl as if to say, “Oh my. Look what I found here. Why, we can’t let this food go to waste. I’m going to take a few bites and…it’s gone. Happy Bowl!” That same scenario played out a few more times, except for once when Mr. Sensitive actually finished his food.

The first day, I binged-watched TV until past midnight. Wanting to sleep in the next morning, I left the doggie door open, so the dogs wouldn’t have to wake me up to go outside. I moved their doggie beds from the master bedroom into the guest bedroom, thinking the dogs would just see that since I was going to bed, they’d go to bed.

Ha!

Mr. Sensitive paced and whimpered until I gave the signal, granting him permission to hop onto the bed and curl up beside me. Little Bad Butt had some trouble jumping onto the bed, but once she joined us, I thought she’d curl up and go to sleep.

Oh, what a fool I was.

She romped around on the bed never once settling down, making tinkling noises due to her two tags clapping together as she moved. After the thrill of being on the bed wore off, she hopped off to indulge in her favorite hobby: barking at nothing in particular. Thanks to me leaving the doggie door open, she frisked around outside barking, in what I’m sure translated to: “Mom and Dad left me with this new sitter who has no idea what she’s doing. Anyone else up? It’s party time!”

Mr. Sensitive, ever the follower, soon jumped off the bed to join his sister outside. Then, I lumbered out of bed. I officially became a Friday night party pooper. I shut the doggie door before opening the patio door. Mr. Sensitive knew the party was over, but Little Bad Butt just stopped barking and looked at me. I called to her and motioned that she come inside. I can’t tell for sure if she was weighing her options. Eventually, she came in. I returned to bed. Next thing I knew, the sun came up.

This was a new day. The new twist in the schedule was my live-streamed noontime yoga class. I set up in my friend’s office, closed the door and had an uninterrupted yoga class. I heard some sounds on the other side of the door, but nothing distressful.

From there, the day flowed to a similar repeat of yesterday with the notable exception that the doggie door was closed after midnight before I went to bed. Both dogs slept in their own beds without any fuss. Of course, I heard the early morning wakeup whimper to let them out.

Now that the dogs have trained me to take care of them, I’m looking forward to another extended visit. If only plants could be so cuddly and interactive.