If my neighbors knew how dangerous I can be, they'd probably increase their homeowners insurance or at least put up big walls around their
homes. What they wouldn't do – under any circumstances – is ask me to feed their pets. Of course, that's what happened last week when I was about the only thing breathing in our cul de sac that didn't have four legs and eat
from a bowl on the floor.
My spouse and children were gone and so was everyone else, with the result that I was taking care of one neighbor's two cats and the other's two dogs and a rabbit. The first day everything went
fine. My husband had let the pets in and out and handled the feedings before he went to visit his family for a few days, leaving me alone so I could catch up on writing and housework. But then night came and it was time to put
everyone up for the night. Pretty simple, huh?
I took the two sets of keys – one key was for the neighbor with the cats and one for the neighbor with the dogs – and went to feed everyone and lock them up. But the key that
belonged to the cat neighbor didn't have anything on it, so I tied a pink neon cord on it. I had reason to worry about losing it.
When my daughter was watching this particular neighbor's cats in the past she lost the key
and we had to break into their house to free the pets. Months later she found the missing key in the yard. So I tied the cord on it in order to avoid such messy complications.
I locked up the cats after filling their dishes and
giving them some water, then went to take care of the dogs. After juggling their feeding and watering, I went to grab the keys and go back home. Only one problem – I couldn't find the keys to the neighbors with the cats.
I
checked everywhere – retracing every step I took in the dog owners' home and found nada. Finally, accepting defeat, I went home and collected all the breaking and entering tools I could find (screwdrivers, bobby pins, paper clips,
credit card) and went back to the cat owners home to try and jimmy open the door – because, you see, I figured out where the key was.
As I was putting the cats in, one was dancing around the porch, refusing to go quietly.
Since it was Independence Day and there were all kinds of fireworks going off, I reasoned it wouldn't be smart to leave the little guy outside. So I reached inside the door, pushed the button lock, grabbed the cat and tossed it
inside, then slammed it. And that was the last time I remember seeing the key. So I figured I must have thrown it in with the cat.
I panicked. I called everyone I know to see if there were any break-in artists among my
family or acquaintances. I looked up how to pick locks and tried (it's harder than it looks) and finally, I just gave up and made plans to call a locksmith to spring the felines.
The next morning, after spending half the
night worrying about the blasted key, I went to the dog owner's house and tossed their key on top of a stereo speaker I passed as I went in. It clanged. Looking closer, I discovered the key to the other house. Somehow I'd missed it
when I was searching for it the night before.
I guess something good came out of this. I know every single inch of the neighbors' yards from having belly-crawled through them looking for that key and I no longer have
anything to hold over my daughter's head.
And it appears there are no budding break-in artists in my immediate circle – even if it is for a legitimate purpose.
