In which there is an escape

This is a story about an experience I had pet-sitting. For the purposes of secrecy, I've replaced all instances where the type of animal involved appears, with the word "salamander."

So I was watching these two salamanders. They were fine, very smart, nice coats, healthy instinct for playing and cuddling. I like these two salamanders.

Their owner is someone I work with, part of a group of middle-aged, single women who go out together to drink a lot and listen to bar blues. Thick as thieves, that group.

So, after work yesterday, I went to the house, and discovered that one of the salamanders had escaped. Apparently. I mean, it wasn't there. It could have been stolen, but who would want a used salamander? So, I searched around, calling out for it, feeling slightly panicked. The other salamander was perfectly happy, jumping and ...barking, the way salamanders do, thrilled to be the only salamander left.

I looked around the yard, to see if perhaps the lost salamander was hiding in the shrubbery, or wounded from a fight with a bigger salamander, but no. She was not there. The neighbors hadn't seen her.

I placed a couple of phone calls to some of the owners friends, just to make sure they hadn't come over and taken one salamander to the beach, or something--no, they hadn't--and I set out with Lefty, the remaining salamander, on a leash. We walked through the neighborhood while I called out "Sally!" (the salamander's name) repeatedly.

After eight blocks or so, I found the salamander hiding in the bushes. She was initially hesitant, but when I called her again and made kissy kissy noises, she came bounding over, jumping and spinning in joyful greeting.

So, I walked both salamaders back to the house, called the friends to say all was well, and left a note for the owner saying, essentially, "FYI: I don't know how Sally salamander escaped, but she did, and I got her back." I thought she would want to know, in case there was a salamander-sized hole in the fence, or something.

Whatever reaction I was expecting (gold coins, possibly a crown, or my own silvery bugle), I didn't get it. Instead, this morning, I was greeted by a coworker--one of the people I'd called yesterday when I was looking for Sally. She acknowledged the return of Sally, and then said, "I was kind of surprised that you left a note saying what happened."

I was unsure how to respond. First of all, I hadn't told her I'd left a note, and second of all, does it not make SENSE, in a situation where a salamander has found a means of escape, to inform the owner of said salamander, in case it happens again? And third of all, how did this person know I'd left a note, and more to the point, why was she second-guessing my decision? Thick as thieves, that group, I tell you.

So, anyway, the salamander owner is home now. I haven't heard from her. I don't know what she thought of my ostensibly polite and informative note. I don't know why everyone else knows about it or would think it was odd in any way.

I do know this: I am never salamander-sitting for her again.



Star of the day. . .Ray Davies
posted @ 2:26 p.m. on June 07, 2006 before | after

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She lay awake all night,

zzzzzzzzzzz......