Thanks, Rover.
I’ve used Rover for several years now. There have been great experiences – my dog finding his BFF in the form of a tiny gray dog with a goatee named Blue – and some negative ones (picture a 60-pound beast that barks nonstop, resulting in complaints from the neighbors, and poops while still walking).
This dog surpasses them all.
Burrito (his real name, while also food-related, has been changed for his own personal pup privacy), arrived on my doorstep at 5 in the morning – his owner had an early flight to catch. I met Burrito a couple days before this in a dog park to make sure he would get along with my own dog. Everything went well during the short playdate – while he was a larger dog than I was used to (over 50 pounds), Burrito seemed like a fun and loving dog who’d be easy to care for over the weekend.
Burrito evidently has multiple personalities, because the Burrito I reunited with at 5 am was the demonic cousin of nice playdate Burrito. Within the first 3 minutes of arriving in my apartment, he peed on the carpets, couch, dresser, my favorite rug, and a door. He was peeing so quickly and efficiently that I barely had time to throw a couple paper towels on one spot before he had ruined another. At 5:04, I was already physically sweating.
Burrito’s fine qualities only got better from there. He ate books, shoes, blankets, my dog’s favorite toys. If you weren’t in the same room with him, he howled and whined and barked as if he were dying. He jumped up on the windows and doors and scratched to his heart’s desire, leaving long, deep grooves in the wood.
By 6 am, I had rolled up all the rugs and pushed the couch and other pieces of furniture to one corner of the room, creating a barricade where I believed I was safe from the menace.
By 7 am, I had Facetimed my mother from the comfort of my barricade, practically in tears, describing Burrito’s last 2 hours and asking her to send help.
By 8 am, I was calling local pet boarders pretending to be Burrito’s owner, seeing if any of them would take him for the next 2 nights. “Yes he’s 50 pounds… yep he’s neutered! Gets along great with other dogs! He has lots of energy! Oh, you need paperwork showing he’s up-to-date on his vaccinations? Let me look around for them and call you back…”
After failing to find a pet boarder who takes random dogs without any paperwork, I asked my brother if he was interested in being paid to watch a dog for the weekend. His response: “Mom says I’m not allowed, she said the dog sounds crazy.”
So I committed to living with Burrito for the next 3 days. Since Burrito wouldn’t let me leave the room, I had to have groceries delivered to my apartment. (He tried to attack the nice woman who brought them up to my door.) Burrito watched me use the bathroom. He watched me shower. My own poor pup was so freaked out by Burrito that he had taken over my couch barricade, calling it his own.
After making it through the 3 days that felt like 3 years, I received a text from Burrito’s owner.
“My flight is delayed so I won’t be able to get Burrito until about 1 am, sorry!”
It’s okay, I thought. I can last 5 or 6 more hours.
With only an hour left in my countdown to freedom, I took Burrito and my pup to the dog park in my apartment complex. I brought them into the fenced-in dirt patch, unleashed them, and actually relaxed for a second. Then a man with a golden retriever decided to come over to the dog park, open both gates, and leave them wide open.
Burrito immediately bolted.
Being the dog that he is, Burrito did not respond to me frantically calling his name. I grabbed my own dog and ran after him, continuing to yell for him while he was having the time of his life. We ran through the parking lot, down the street, through several alleys. We ran and ran and ran and ran. Burrito continued to be thoroughly entertained by this new game we were playing; he would stand still waiting for me, and as I got close, he’d sprint in a different direction wildly with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Soon I lost sight of Burrito and came to a stop. The majority of me was completely panicked – I’ve lost this girl’s dog and it wasn’t even my fault. She’s going to be so upset, how do you tell someone you lost their pet? While I tried to ignore it, there was also a small part of me that was relieved Burrito was out of my life. I pictured him living out on the streets, hiding under porches in the rain, and I felt a little satisfied. That’s what he gets, I thought.
(Does this make me sound like a shitty person? Yes. But Burrito had destroyed my brain by that point and I wasn’t thinking of him as a dog, more of as an alien that was sent to show me what hell is like.)
Lost and out of breath, my dog and I started finding our way home (at this point, it actually was starting to rain). I decided I couldn’t give up yet, so I drove around Richmond aimlessly, looking for a flash of fur running across the street or a person that might have seen the wild animal on the loose. No Burrito in sight. So I crafted the text telling Burrito’s owner that he ran away.
Then I proceeded to sprawl out on my carpet and stare at the ceiling in defeat while I waited for her to get off the plane and call me, likely telling me that I’m the world’s worst dog sitter and she’s going to sue me and how could I lose her sweet, precious boy??
She texted me back an hour later: “Someone actually found Burrito and brought him to the VA Animal Shelter and they called me, so I’m going to pick him up right now!”
I remember bringing myself back down onto the carpet and laughing manically. That damn dog was immediately found, I thought. He probably sprinted over to someone and they showered him in ‘oh you poor thing’s and ‘you’re so cute’s before whisking him off to the safety of the animal shelter. He never even had time to be stuck in the rain.
Memoirable Moments 