A few years back I watched Marcia (Friend #3)’s dog. This was before Friend #3 got her elegantly appointed condo and lived instead in a relatively ghetto condo with her dog, Ricky.
I watched Ricky for a week while Marcia was out of town. Marcia told me everything I needed to know. “Ricky gets a Liva Snap after he takes his Prozac in a gob of organic peanut butter. Ricky is a social eater, he won’t eat unless you’re in the same room eating dinner too. On his morning walks, Ricky will pee once, then poop once, then pee again. When he picks up a pine cone and starts playing with it that means he’s ready to go home, and he’ll carry it back and leave it outside the door. Then he’ll just pee out back before he goes to bed.”
That’s why I felt very comfortable looking after Ricky. The first night, though, I took Ricky down to the first level so he could visit the back patio for a whiz. I was shuffling through the dark room while Ricky yipped in excitement.
“Eep” came a noise from the corner.
I let Ricky out and investigated the noise. What could it be? There was the dimly lit bookshelf, the computer, the birdcage, the couch, the –
Birdcage?
“Eep,” chirped the yellow budgie that Marcia had neglected to mention.
Yes. Neglected to mention. A living creature, a bird creature, that was looking at me as if to say, “I’m a social eater too. I haven’t eaten for hours. Plus, I need my Prozac too. I poop five times a day without the help of pine cones. You don’t know where my food is. I could die at any moment. I will haunt you if I die on your watch.”
I backed away from the bird and called Ricky back in, which only reminded me I didn’t know the bird’s name. I flicked on the light and saw a bag of bird food on the bookshelf. I grabbed a scoop and poured it generally on the bird’s head. I knew if I tried to clean out the bottom that bird would fly off to find Marcia. I turned off the light and said “Bye, uh, bird.”
The bird did not say “Eep.” I turned the light back on. “Eep,” it said.
This is why I never turned the lights on in that room for the rest of the week. I’d let Ricky out each evening, then I’d peer through the dark to see if the bird had joined the choir invisible. Finally, on the last night, I turned on the light.
“Eep,” it said.
I coughed.
“Cough,” it said.
This completely freaked me out. Not just a bird, but one of those creepy smart-ass mimicking birds. A bird who could later say, “Hey, Marcia, that cow you sent to take care of me tried to drown me in bird seed. And I never got my Prozac.”
I met Marcia with, “You have a BIRD.”
“Huh? Oh, Chuckie.”
“You didn’t tell me about the BIRD.”
“Yeah, Chuckie. He’s just a bird.” Like he’s furniture. Talking mocking furniture that might die.
When Chuckie died months later (stress, I am sure) Marcia was nice enough to tell me of his passing. I wanted to ask how many days he had been dead before she noticed.
15 responses to “Adventures in Petsitting”
I can count at least a dozen times as a petsitter when people would “forget” certain critters. They would call me and say, “Oh, we have three cats” and would forget to add, “A tank full of rare saltwater tropical fish, a gecko, an iguana, and a polar bear.” (Okay, maybe not a polar bear.) Sometimes they neglected to mention this because they didn’t want to scare me or raise the rate – which they wouldn’t have done, anyway. (See why I’m out of business?) The scariest was when they would just forget they had a tank, a gecko, etc. I always had their contact numbers and would call them up and say, “What does an iguana eat? Where’s its food?” And invariably came the response,”Oh, it’s under the cabinet. So we forgot to mention Spike, huh? Heh heh.” Gah!
That’s so very sad. Poor Chuckie. and your friend names all her pets after men, I see. A little strange.
Poor Chuckie! At least you cared about him. It meant a lot, I’m sure! Tres amusant!
Poor Chuckie. You know, those birds usually live YEARS… I wonder if she did neglect him. Poor thing… You were probably the best thing to happen to Chuckie in his whole, poor, neglected life. 😉
How does one forget they have a pet??? I don’t understand this. Or did she just “forget”???
Oh and I forgot to say, Friend #3 what say you? Are you going to defend yourself?
I’M RIGHT HERE, PEOPLE!
What? No Julia-Roberts-style “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!”?
All – As a brief aside: snort! I can report from the next cubicle that “Ex”-friend #3 is so ashamed by her treatment of Poor Chuckie that she cannot even defend herself.
‘Scuse me, but at that particular time, I was about to embark on an extended road trip with a friend from England and I was A BIT DISTRACTED.I believe at the time I expressed regret at not telling you. If you’ll recall, you repeatedly wouldn’t answer the phone that first night, and I had to dispatch my best friend to my house to get you to ANSWER THE PHONE.The bird was sweet, the bird was cute and I did care for him while he lived.All of you: Phhhhhbbbbttttttt….
I never knew you had a bird, Friend #3.I once had to report to a friend that all of her fish died on my watch. It was awful. She went home from college for a couple weeks and I stopped by to feed the fish. By the second or third day they were dead. I was so stressed about whether I had over or under fed them. Turns out she had accidentally turned off the temp control for their water, or something like that. Whew! It won’t bring ’em back, but at least I didn’t do it.
Which reminds me, my white supremecist fish, David Duke, died. It was the best year and a half of his life.
Becs – Yeah, like Spike is part of the decor.Candy – Well, Lucy, Ricky’s counterpart, died. But still, a good observation.judith – Yes, pile on Friend #3. More of that.Sue – I think you are right. i know when I get to Heaven, Chuckie will be there on the rainbow bridge waiting for me, not Marcia.Autumn – You made my day by pushing Marcia over the edge.Ex-Friend #3 – Bird Murderer.still-Hot Mom – Bird Murder Apologist.Ex-Friend #3 – Bird Murderer.Caroline – You have all my sympathies. That sounds awful.Ex-Friend #3 – Once a Bird Murderer, always a murderer. Plus, the Internets are going to think you revere David Duke. They might not have read this:http://pitchererror.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-fish.html
A bird that tattles! I wonder…can you teach a bird to tattle on only one person? You know, like the hubby?
Twofer – what has your hubby been up to? You might want to go on and breathe some garlic on him.