I’m living a Goldilocks life. I fall asleep in other people’s beds, choose which one of their chairs feels just right and decide which cup would be a perfect complement to my morning coffee. I’m an Older Woman who plays in grown-up doll houses while the owners are away. Home owners call us House Sitters; we call ourselves Lucky. Lucky to escape the humidity of La Paz summers, Fortunate to stay in houses we could never ever afford and, also Lucky to have pets for a limited time… cats who purr in my lap and dogs who beg Alex to play fetch.
Six years ago an acquaintance from San Francisco needed someone to take care of her dog while she went on vacation. She asked if we’d be interested and we jumped right in. That week changed our lives.
Later she told her friends about us and now we’re “booked” almost all summer.
Later she told her friends about us and now we’re “booked” almost all summer.
In some ways house sitting is similar to staying at a bed and breakfast. I remember our first B & B. We took a trip to Germany in 1970 and stayed in Zimmers (private homes that rent out a bedroom or two). I loved eating from plates that had served the family for generations, couldn’t resist fingering the creases of stiffly starched tablecloths and each night I shivered as I slid under fluffy down comforters.
House sitting has all the benefits of staying at a B & B and none of the downsides. We don’t need to get dressed for breakfast or sit up straight (I’ve noticed that some inn keepers are more formal than their Victorian style furniture). I can have my favorite breakfast whenever I’m hungry (a big bowl of oatmeal mixed with bran, cottage cheese, yogurt and two packets of Splenda – this may sound disgusting to you but I enjoy it almost as much as a hot fudge Sunday - almost). I can eat on the patio, sit crossed legged on a deck chair and drift from being in the “Now” to being in the “Somewhere Else.” The dogs and cats don’t mind; they don’t expect small talk. And when it’s time to pack our bags and move on, we’re never asked, “Will you being paying with cash or credit card?”
House sitting literally opened doors into other people’s worlds. We spent two weeks in an unfinished tiny rustic cabin where we cooked on an old yellow 1940 stove and ate on a vintage ceramic table.
A few weeks later we walked into 6,000 square feet of luxury: 8 baths, 5 bedrooms, a 4,000 bottle wine cellar, mirrored gym, heated salt-water swimming pool, and a six car garage occupied by three original Shelby Cobra sport cars, a Jaguar, and an Aston Martin...(poor Zoom had piston envy). We’ve loved being in both homes.
Although the benefits are great, so are the responsibilities. Cats are quick and can scurry out the door in a flash. Six-thousand feet is a lot of hiding space for a clever cat. (She was under the couch and just ignored our frantic calls of “Here kitty…kitty”). A dog’s paw suddenly bleeds on the silk carpet. Should we spend the $150 for a visit to the vet? (Yes.) Lucy, the crab won’t eat and the “How to Care for your Pet Crab” manual doesn’t help. (Crabs don’t eat much). Murphy, the big Tom cat, won’t come out from under the bed. Why? (The owner forgot to tell us that he doesn’t like men).
Alex and I are careful but things occasionally break. A dish. A glass. And our hearts when we hear that one of our temporary “Charges” has died during the winter.
A friend once asked us, “Why would you leave your lovely home in La Paz to go sleep in someone else’s bed?” Maybe it’s because my mother never allowed my sisters and me to borrow anything. Not from her, not from each other and not from friends.
Now I’m still reluctant to borrow a sweater from a friend but I’m thrilled at the chance to borrow a home. Or perhaps I’m still a child who loves to play house. Possibly it’s because every summer Alex and I jump into a rabbit-hole and pop out the other side never knowing what new adventure awaits us.
