Three Days of Chaos

I was NOT prepared for this. Mrs. Henderson's house smelled like lavender and desperate choices, and I was suddenly responsible for keeping three living things alive for the weekend.

"Just make sure Bubbles gets fed twice a day," she'd said, pointing to the goldfish bowl with its solitary orange inhabitant. "And please don't let Max destroy my couch. Again."

Max, her golden retriever, was already looking at me like *this is going to be fun.*

First mistake: leaving my phone on the coffee table near Max's favorite nap spot. Came back from the kitchen to find him gnawing on my charging cable like it was beef jerky. *Perfect.* Now I couldn't text Maya back about the party, and I'd have to explain to my mom why I needed another cable. Again.

But the real crisis happened Saturday night.

I'd finally gotten Max to settle down (turns out he just wanted to play fetch for three hours straight), and I was chilling on the couch, half-watching some show on cable TV. The house felt too quiet, too big for just me and a dog.

That's when I noticed Bubbles. Or didn't notice him.

The goldfish was floating weirdly at the top of the bowl, barely moving.

*No no no no NO.*

I literally googled "is my goldfish dying or just sleeping" (it was not sleeping). The internet said to check the water temperature and change some of it. I spent forty-five minutes carefully treating the water like my life depended on it, pacing around the bowl, feeling like the worst pet-sitter in history.

Max kept nudging my hand with his nose, like *dude, chill.*

And then Bubbles swam down. Slowly, but he moved.

I sank onto the floor, Max curling up beside me, and just breathed. The dog rested his head on my knee, and I realized this random weekend with someone else's pets had been less stressful than my actual life lately. No drama, no trying to figure out who liked who, no overthinking everything.

Sometimes you just gotta make sure a fish doesn't die and untangle yourself from a dog who thinks your lap is his personal throne.

Sunday night, Mrs. Henderson came home to find Bubbles swimming happily, Max sleeping peacefully, and me on the couch, somehow more exhausted than after finals week.

"You're a natural," she said, handing me twenty bucks.

I walked home feeling weirdly accomplished. Like maybe I could handle more than I thought. Even if my charger cable was definitely beyond saving.