Well hi there inter-world. It’s been a while.
The summer has flown, I have loved my internship, the high school girls I worked with, the solid mentors that surrounded me, the random adventures, my Tulsa host family, all of it. There hasn’t really been much to blog about however… I’m no longer climbing mountains or jumping off of bridges every weekend, the crazy stories just haven’t been as blog-worthy… until last week.
Earlier this summer Lizzy and I agreed to house-sit at the end of July for a professor that lives in Owasso. She mentioned a few farm-like tasks, all of which sounded pretty manageable. The week before I went by the house to meet the animals which consisted of 2 pet cows: Nigel and Loraine, 10 chickens: a rooster named Georgette and 9 named hens, and 3 giant Great Pyrenees dogs: Bismark, Napoleon and Subby. I got a tour of the land, said hello to the animals and listened intently to our instructions for the following week. There were a few key things said that stuck out, “I didn’t get the dogs neutered till they were a year old so they would be bigger, so sometimes they mark the furniture, it’s not a big deal.” and “Sometimes Georgette sneaks up on you… keep and eye on him when you’re outside.” and “we have a mouse in the house, but I don’t want to kill it, so he’s just more like a pet.”
We started on Wednesday and by Friday were counting down the hours of the next 5 days. Not only did the dogs “sometimes mark the furniture,” they peed all over every time we were gone. Friday we came home to 4 accidents, then let them outside only to have them come in and poop on the rug. It was terrible. Along with this, the dogs slept in the bedroom we were instructed to stay in… one (sometimes two) of them on the full sized bed with us. Needless to say we didn’t get much sleep.
The chickens seemed pretty harmless. Our only tasks there were to open the coop in the morning, close it in the evening, make sure there was always food and water, and collect the eggs. Easy, right? We even had a Chick-tionary detailing the names, characteristics, personalities and favorite foods of each chicken. Except that “sometimes Georgette (the rooster) sneaks up on you” really means “we have an attack rooster, he will chase you.” Opening the coop in the morning became unlatching the door and running for your life, collecting eggs or watering plants outside became something like a stealth expedition. (We aren’t very stealthy)
The mouse was never really a problem, except when he would run across the floor and the dogs would go crazy, or when I would get dishes out of the cabinet and wonder at just how clean they actually were.
All in all, we survived and came out with a few bucks and some interesting stories. I call that a win, although I can say with complete confidence that I will never house-sit there, or anywhere like it, again.
Is it time for school yet?
