The interview

I called a professional pet sitter yesterday. Sam doesn’t do well in kennels. Since I can’t take him with me I have to get someone to look after him. The cousins have offered to come by daily to feed and walk him. But I will feel better if someone is with him full time. I am such a good parent.

The sitter and I discussed fees and arrangements. Before I entrust my dog and my home to this stranger I asked her to come over for a face-to-face. She agreed and we scheduled her visit for this morning. She just left.

She is a friendly sort and she and Sam got along famously. She’s been doing this for five years and brought references. I was impressed.

Then as she was scratching Sam’s ears she said “I just love puppies. How old is he? Three? Four?” Suddenly I began to have serious doubts about her. Jeez, what was wrong with her eyesight? Sam’s muzzle is as grey as my hair. “Um, he’s thirteen” I replied. “Well he’s in great shape for thirteen” she said. I swear I saw Sam grin. He’s such a sucker for flattery.

We walked around outdoors and talked while I watched her interact with Sam. Good rapport. We discussed Sam's diet and exercise routine. The puppy remark kept nagging me though. Just how smart is she? The conversation eventually turned to my trip. I told her I was off to spend my birthday with friends. “Oh, how old will you be?” she asked. Hmm, another black mark. I was losing confidence fast. “I will be fifty four” I grumbled. “Wow, I would have said you were in your forties” she enthused.

*blink* *blink* how I misjudged her, the woman is obviously a genius.

“You’re hired.” I said. I swear I saw Sam snicker.