Pet-Sit Panic

I once volunteered to babysit a dog; really, how hard could that be? She looked at me with pitiful eyes, “Would you please watch my little puppy?” “Sure”, I said, “I’d love to do it. Just bring him over tonight.” “A little puppy”, is what she said, but that description didn’t fit him just right. Only eight months old a puppy might be, that concept isn’t too hard, But “little” isn’t an accurate word when describing a St. Bernard. I didn’t slobber-proof myself or my things, didn’t know I had to do it, My rain coat on and plastic coverings, was the only way I could get through it. What he didn’t chew or eat right through he slobbered from bottom to top; I chased him around with a leap and a bound; tracing every step with my new mop. When she returned at the end of the week my apartment was quite the mess; “Thank you so much, how can I repay you?” “Please, next time just loose my address!”