Dusty, I’m Locked Out of The House

House-sit, it will be good they say.

House-sit, the puppy is cute they say.

So, off I go to my first house-sitting gig…

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I’m currently sitting on the front porch of an almost stranger’s home (I still have not met these people….I was recommended and came after they left for the trip). Currently, conniving about the ways I may break into the house.

1.Jump Through the Kitchen Window

2.Call a Locksmith

3.Cry

I run to the back door. “Aha!”

Nope. No luck. I locked that one too. 

Dusty, the sweetest golden retriever, meets me at the locked glass door. Her puppy dog eyes stare at me with a quizzical look. She puts a paw upon the glass, I meet it with my palm… Sorry, buddy.

Ok, maybe that’s too dramatic— she does have practically a mansion to run around in there— but still— she must have been thinking, “Why you so dumb, housesitter?”

(Just if you were wondering, puppy went on a walk, had breakfast and lots of outside time before author inadvertently locked her in)

I swallow my pride.

I email the owners— spare key, anyone?

They’re probably up over some continent I’ve never even been too… Their last concern, would be me–currently panicking.

I email my stats professor— 

I’m not going to class today, Prof. 

P.S. Do you know how to pick a lock?

Panicked, 

Deborah

5 hours later:

I put down my bobby pins, paper clips and step away from the door.

(I actually did end up going to class; with the hopes of someone teaching me how to pick a lock— but to no avail)

The family’s family friend (how’s that for confusing?) becomes my new favorite person and shows up with a spare. 

And within minutes, my whole day’s worry disappears. 

Dusty comes up and greets me, probably wanting to say, “What took you so long?”

Whatever, dog. You stick to your puppy dog looks, and I’ll stick to… not locking myself out of strangers’ homes.

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