Don't get me wrong. When I first started walking dogs, I lost enough weight to have every single person I know telling me I was losing weight. "You're losing weight!" As if I'm not the person putting on my pants every morning.
Why is it rude to comment on weight gain but not weight loss? "God, where'd your ass go?" Um, I sent it in as my entry fee into the Calista Flockhart Fan Club.
It just took me a while to adjust to my new work day. My entire career had been spent behind a desk or standing in front of a room talking and I was never more than two doors away from a fridge and a microwave. Now I was obeying one condo unit's "No Dogs In the Elevator" policy for five stories a day and sprinting after run away dogs on a regular basis.
Plus, the leftovers I used to eat tasted terrible cold and I wasn't wasting money on some overpriced Thermos until my client list was longer. Oh, and did I mention the two English Labs that squeezed around and eventually chewed through the metal pet barrier designed to keep them out of my front seat? If they found my lunch bag before the bag of dog treats, I went hungry for the day. Not that the human-food-induced dog farts and diarrhea didn't make me lose my appetite anyway.
Now I've got a metal thermos that takes longer to chew into than it does for me to get in an out of a dog's house, a grocery list full of easy-to-eat-while-driving snacks, and no more Labs after they ate something poisonous and require 24 hour supervision from the long lasting health complications. And no, the poison wasn't from my lunch. My bets are on the metal pet barrier. Those things might be toxic.
So, I'm back to my original weight and having to watch what I eat again. Just when I was getting used to stuffing my face full of whatever I could find, my dogs don't run away anymore and the no-elevator client cut back to twice a week.
I had a hard time buttoning my pants today, which means my transition from high calorie food to low calorie but still high energy food isn't going as smoothly as I thought. But then again, it's summer and all of my shorts have drawstrings, so it's easy to see how I could be fooled.
Don't be a dog walker. You'll get skinny, then get fat again. It's not worth it.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Some People Learned Nothing in Kindergarten
It's a myth that you can become a dog walker and avoid people. They're everywhere.
In my experience, the dog walking profession attracts more socially awkward people than even the computer industry, and that can't be a coincidence. But nothing beats the losers a dog walker runs into during the day. Or in today's example, doesn't run into but finds evidence of their sorry existence.
For the third time this year, I find myself putting my name on my Chuck-it. You know, the long-handled plastic thing that hurls tennis balls further than the bionic man playing fetch with his robo dog?
It's no small feat branding my Chuck-It. Sharpie wears off within an hour on a drizzly day or within five minutes in the slobber factory which is a Pit Bull's mouth. That's right, I have a Pit Bull who steals my Chuck-It when I'm not looking.
The Pit Bull, I can forgive. But who the Hell do you think you are, mystery park thief? When you find something at the dog park that you didn't drop, that doesn't make it yours. Or did you miss that in Kindergarten class? "Oh, here's a Chuck-It lying haphazardly by the gate as if someone had a hard time wrangling all of their dogs into the van while an over protective Pomeranian owner screamed obscenities in the direction of the Pit Bull. Lucky me, I think I'll take it home!"
News flash Sticky Fingers: IF IT'S NOT YOURS, DON'T TAKE IT! See that lost and found basket over there? Use it.
Now I'm one small business owner out a total of $60 for three Chuck-Its. Jerk.
The thought of you encountering you at the park is enough to crush everyone's dreams of being a dog walker.
In my experience, the dog walking profession attracts more socially awkward people than even the computer industry, and that can't be a coincidence. But nothing beats the losers a dog walker runs into during the day. Or in today's example, doesn't run into but finds evidence of their sorry existence.
For the third time this year, I find myself putting my name on my Chuck-it. You know, the long-handled plastic thing that hurls tennis balls further than the bionic man playing fetch with his robo dog?
It's no small feat branding my Chuck-It. Sharpie wears off within an hour on a drizzly day or within five minutes in the slobber factory which is a Pit Bull's mouth. That's right, I have a Pit Bull who steals my Chuck-It when I'm not looking.
The Pit Bull, I can forgive. But who the Hell do you think you are, mystery park thief? When you find something at the dog park that you didn't drop, that doesn't make it yours. Or did you miss that in Kindergarten class? "Oh, here's a Chuck-It lying haphazardly by the gate as if someone had a hard time wrangling all of their dogs into the van while an over protective Pomeranian owner screamed obscenities in the direction of the Pit Bull. Lucky me, I think I'll take it home!"
News flash Sticky Fingers: IF IT'S NOT YOURS, DON'T TAKE IT! See that lost and found basket over there? Use it.
Now I'm one small business owner out a total of $60 for three Chuck-Its. Jerk.
The thought of you encountering you at the park is enough to crush everyone's dreams of being a dog walker.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Nature is a Bitch
Being a dog walker requires being out in nature. It's dangerous.
It's baby bird season and one of my clients had a crow's nest in their front yard. Over the weekend, two of the babies left the nest and instead of soaring, they took a nose dive into the driveway. One died on the spot and one was rushed to the animal hospital and is recovering nicely. Unfortunately, papa crow blames the dog and any humans attached to the dog. That's me.
Every time I pick the dog up, I have papa crow swooping at my head. He hasn't made contact yet, but he gets close enough to have my bangs sway in the wind of his wings. Plus he's tracking me, and that freaks me out. I park in a lot across the street from the house and he greets me from the branch above my van. One big squack when I get out, then continuous yelling as he hops from tree to tree all the way across the parking lot, across the street, and into the front yard. When the dog comes out, he starts swooping back and forth, all the way back across the street, across the parking lot, and back above my van.
It's not that I think he could kill me or anything, but I've seen what those birds pick at in the middle of the street and I don't want a new wound opened by one of those nasty claws. Roadkill residue festering in my scratch. That's a guaranteed infection.
Dog walking is dangerous, don't do it.
It's baby bird season and one of my clients had a crow's nest in their front yard. Over the weekend, two of the babies left the nest and instead of soaring, they took a nose dive into the driveway. One died on the spot and one was rushed to the animal hospital and is recovering nicely. Unfortunately, papa crow blames the dog and any humans attached to the dog. That's me.
Every time I pick the dog up, I have papa crow swooping at my head. He hasn't made contact yet, but he gets close enough to have my bangs sway in the wind of his wings. Plus he's tracking me, and that freaks me out. I park in a lot across the street from the house and he greets me from the branch above my van. One big squack when I get out, then continuous yelling as he hops from tree to tree all the way across the parking lot, across the street, and into the front yard. When the dog comes out, he starts swooping back and forth, all the way back across the street, across the parking lot, and back above my van.
It's not that I think he could kill me or anything, but I've seen what those birds pick at in the middle of the street and I don't want a new wound opened by one of those nasty claws. Roadkill residue festering in my scratch. That's a guaranteed infection.
Dog walking is dangerous, don't do it.
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