Summertime, and animal tales

 So this is where we are 

There's a map with a ! right over my house.

Moving along to more weekendish thoughts, I was asked this morning about my long ago pet and plant care service.

I thought you'd enjoy, as a change from the state of the world, a few animal anecdotes. I had a flourishing service, visiting pets and plants in their homes, sometimes both, working seven day weeks, animals don't take days off! 

My older sister, never owned a business in her life, employed in corporatelandia, advised me to refuse to work weekends!  I explained that would be a fast track out of business. When live animals are involved, you attend. 

The court system even allowed me excuse from jury duty on that account. And when people say well, hire a backup, without the faintest idea how, oh well. Anyone with the insurance liability and bonding coverage I carried wouldn't be an occasional backup, they'd be in business themselves. 

Moving on to the animals. There was dear old Wellington, 21 years old, whose older brother had died at 22, in my care for three weeks while the owners were in Europe. They were sure he wouldn't live, left careful instructions about his body, complete with little container in the fridge, yes, that's what you do, and departed.

They were lovely people, very high strung, noisy, perpetual motion study, and the first few days Wellie just slept. I woke him to feed and use his box, then he gratefully went back to sleep. He was recovering from his owners, loved them dearly, and they wore him out.

The second week he was playful, getting on and off the sofa unaided, coming to meet me at the door. By the time the owners returned, he'd completed his rest cure. They called me in great excitement "We came in, expecting  to check the fridge for Wellie, and suddenly he was running to the door. Running!"  He lived another couple of years.

I've often thought owners, including me, are something for their pets to grapple with. We're all a bit high strung, wanting the best, reluctant to accept that sometimes that entails doing nothing.

Then there were the koi I fed, in a house which had a cat who let herself in and out via a garage window. She never bothered the koi pond. The fish were eager to feed and more than once one leapt up and attached himself to my finger! Bitten by a fish.

I've been bitten by a nervous rabbit, a v-shaped dent in my finger, just a pinch, nothing between friends. And there was dear Suzy the ferret, in a household of many pets, with a permutation of who could and couldn't encounter whom. She liked to ride in my sleeve while I did the rounds of amphibians, birds, cats and pet spiders.  She tried to come home with me more than once.

In fact, that was an occupational hazard, pets trying to stow away in my pockets when I left. Or jumping into the fridge, a specialty of tuxedo cats. I learned to check before I left. And to unplug small appliances owners had forgotten, after one tuxedo set the electric can opener going, luckily not getting a paw in its path. I wasn't moving fast enough for his requirements.

Then there were the cats whose owners assured me I'd never see them, too shy, here's a photo, oh wait, he's jumped on your head, how about that? And the cat whose owner said Kitty loved to drink from a  dripping faucet in the kitchen sink but was too old to jump up, would I mind lifting her? Of course not. Except that in the owner's absence she leapt up like a two year old. She'd got them well trained in serfdom.

I drew a lot of portraits on those visits. The pet business enabled me to support myself while making art, some free daylight hours and and endless changes of scene, with no humans talking at me. In fact a couple of petcare clients when they found out about my art life, took an interest,  attending openings, buying pieces, one arranging a corporate solo show for me. Unexpected bonuses.

I never mentioned art when I met clients, largely because a lot of people think artist=flake,  unreliable. They admitted this much later when I was established with them, and they discovered artist=focused, dependable. 

It's wannabes who run about with black berets and intense expressions. Real artists just want to get on with the work, and wear black when they're working with black blockprint ink.

That was an energetic period, twelve years of successful pet care and art. I couldn't do it now, good thing I don't have to.

Happy day everyone, and to all older sibs, this is dedicated to you