This is one of those entries where names (obviously) have been changed so I don't lose my job.
I used to walk a dog, Dave, who was allowed to run loose in the neighborhood. The owners never thought anything of it until they adopted Buster, and then all of a sudden the rules changed and they weren't allowed to run. I'm still scratching my dreads over this one.
Walking Dave and Buster was always a trip because Dave often didn't want to leave the comfort of the yard, or sometimes even the house. We would head out on our walk and then, plop, 100+ pounds of Dave wasn't going anywhere. Buster, by default, always did whatever Dave did.
So one spring day when it was pouring rain and I was drenched, several walks into my dripping wet roster before heading off to my second job at the time, I decided to cave. I would let Dave and Buster use the front yard to potty and then we would all head inside for some nice dry fun. That is, if I could even get their lazy butts to leave the house.
I opened the door and didn't even bother with the leashes, thinking I was going to have to tractor pull them outside anyway. Dave looked at me for a brief moment, got a twinkle in his eye and a twitch in his tail, and booked it outside with Buster by his side. In an instant, they were gone.
I immediately started walking our route, cutting through the neighbor's yard on foot. Dave, not the brightest crayon in the box, usually goes for our walk when he runs away. I did our mile long route to no avail.
They hadn't come back home. I waited for them, running at least an hour behind schedule now. Nothing. I got nauseous, sobbed, and dry heaved, knowing the rage I would feel if my dog ran away on someone else's watch. Knowing that I had just let the best job ever run off into the rain because I didn't hook up a damn leash. I had no choice. I had to move on to my next pet sit if there would be enough time for me to come back and look for them before going to my second job.
I started driving to my next pet sit when I saw something in the distance. Two very familiar shapes, one brown and one red, with wagging tails coming clearer between my windshield wipers. I pulled over and two sopping wet, very impressed-with-themselves, dogs checked out my ride.
I opened the passenger door and shouted "BOYS! Get in the car!" Buster looked at Dave to see what the plan was. Dave was considering. I grabbed my box of treats from the back seat and shook it. Buster jumped in. Reluctantly, Dave did the same.
On the way home they wrestled each other for the front passenger seat and made my car stink to high hell. What a wonderful day! They got a romp in the rain, treats, and a car ride. I pretty much had a heart attack.
In moments like this, what do you leave in the note to the client? "Dave and Buster got away from me for a moment, but I got a hold of them and all is well. From now on I won't let them leave so much as the kitchen without a leash on. No one pooped." Wait, let me check my pants. Yeah, no one pooped.