I had scheduled this window cleaning job yesterday.
The pollen was down.
Her windows were dirty.
She was ready.
“I have to leave at 11:00,” she had told me.
I would do the inside first.
When I got there today, she said, “There’s no rush. I trust you. Just go out the back door and lock it as you leave. And don’t let the dog out! I promise you you cannot catch her!”
Now, I’m still pretty quick, but, if I had to chase her and bend over, well, that’s a whole other skill set.
About an hour passed.
“Well, I’m on my way,” she said.
“I’ll lock the door when I’m done.”
I was through inside in less than five minutes. I went to the back door, set my bucket and step ladder out.
She was out in the driveway.
“The dog is out!”
(Shoot! I had forgotten to watch for the dog. I’m glad it sneaked out when she went out.)
I answered, smiling, “I’m glad I wasn’t the one who let her out.”
I swear, I never saw her.
She was really quick.
Now, I’m remembering that she squeezed by me to escape the last time I was there to give a bid. Oh, man.
“She will come back and wait by the back door. Then you can let her in.”
I watched that little black shih-tzu go chase some birds, some squirrels, a deer, chat with the neighbor’s dogs.
I’ll probably be here for awhile.
A few minutes later, there she was, sitting by the back door. I walked up the steps to open it.
She ran off.
I cleaned a few more windows, walked to the back door, saw her watching me, and said in my highest pitched puppy calling voice, “Hey, you wanna treat? You wanna treat?”
Yep, it was a lie.
A bald faced lie.
She knew I was lying.
But I continued the act.
I walked inside, all the way back to her bowl, shook her feed bag for effect.
I saw her out of the corner of my eye.
I put a couple of pieces of dog food on the floor, and gingerly maneuvered around her to get between her and the door.
She took a step toward the food.
I bolted for the door.
Every time I entered the house and left the house I remembered that dog.
I watched that dog.
I would not let that dog better me again.
But, I could hear her thinking, ” There never was a treat. Was there?”