The Pet Sit Fail

The cable guy was supposed to come between 1 and 3, according to my mom's detailed text. She and Dad were in Tahoe for the weekend, leaving me in charge of the house and, more importantly, Mrs. Chen's menagerie next door.

"Just make sure the cat and dog get fed," she'd said, like it was no big deal. Spoiler: it was a very big deal.

I was sprawled on the couch doomscrolling when I heard scratching at the back door. Bear, Mrs. Chen's enormous German shepherd, had figured out how to work the doggie door latch again. Great.

"Bear, get back here!" I yelled, scrambling off the couch. The dog bolted past me, tail wagging like he'd just won the lottery. Mittens, the cat, sat on the kitchen counter looking entirely unimpressed.

The cable guy chose that exact moment to knock.

"Came to fix the internet," he said, taking in Bear mid-sprint and me in my "I'm not lazy, I'm conserving energy" sweatshirt. "Should I come back?"

"No, come in!" Bear had cornered Mittens under the dining table. The cat was hissing, Bear was barking, and I was about to have an aneurysm.

I managed to wrangle Bear with a string cheese from the fridge—don't judge, it worked—while the cable guy worked on the router in the living room. Every time he made a noise, Mittens would growl from under the table.

"Your cat's got real strong opinions about ethernet cables," the guy commented.

"She's not even my cat," I muttered, scratching Bear behind the ears. He'd decided I was his new best friend.

An hour later, the internet was fixed, all animals were fed, and the cable guy left with a story to tell his coworkers. I collapsed onto the couch, Bear curled up at my feet, Mittens finally deigning to join us on the cushion beside me.

My phone buzzed. Mom calling.

"How's everything going?" she asked, way too cheerful.

"Fine," I said, Bear letting out a soft snore. "Everything's under control."

I hung up, grinning. Sometimes surviving total chaos counted as a win. Besides, I'd earned Bear's approval, and that felt pretty good.