It's like living on a boat...

It's fine for a week. Anything beyond that...

I'm dog-sitting this week. I love dogs. I was raised with them -- we always had at least one, sometimes two. And big dogs -- German shepherds. But this is different. I'm dog-sitting for eight dogs. Yes, eight. And they're all different and challenging in their own way.

Ditto -- is a black lab. He's gorgeous and has a mean bark, and has been known to nip to protect his owners. But he's more like the strong, brooding type. When I was watching TV last night, I had the menagerie of dogs on my lap, on the couch and at my feet. Ditto was in the bedroom. And when I went to bed, he slept with his back against the front door. I felt very safe.

Cody -- also a black lab, but with only three legs. He got hit by a car before he came to live with his present owners. Very sweet, a little goof. In constant need of attention. He would stay outside all night if I let him. I had to call him several times last night to come in from the yard -- long after the other dogs came in. He slept at my feet in the living room and on the floor next to my bed last night.

Luke -- some sort of mutt mix, medium sized dog. The most easy-going of all of them. He goes out when he's told, comes back, doesn't lick, doesn't jump. He laid on the floor when I told him to. He also slept on the floor next to my bed last night.

Zeke -- is actually my co-worker's son's dog. He's a skipperke and just as cute as can be. He can be a little yippee, but he snuggled right on my lap last night and was happy. He's a puppy trying to play with the big boys and will follow any of the dogs anywhere.

Oatie and Teddy -- what I commonly refer to as "kick me" dogs, or sweater dogs. One has a snaggle tooth, the other has a tongue that's too long for his mouth and sticks out of the corner. Both are yippee and had to have a can of whoop-ass opening last night when I was trying to sleep. They'd yip and get the other ones all riled up.

Pierce -- another kick me dog -- some sort of dachsund mix. I'm sure he was yipping right along with the other two last night. And if I had to peg it, he was the one crying in the wee hours of the morning, which I ignored. So I guess it served me right that there was a little pile of poop on the hallway floor.

Calvin -- this is the saddest case of an owner living in denial about his dog's quality of life. Calvin is old, really old. And he's blind. And he sort of wanders around, bumping into things, stepping in his water dish, knocking over his food dish, peeing and pooping whenever the moment hits him. Thankfully, he's in a confined area, covered in newspaper. I was told he could go out, but I'd have to carry him back in because he can't find the door.

So those are my children for the week. Tonight, they're all going outside so I can give Calvin clean newspaper and walk on the treadmill undisturbed. And hopefully all the fresh air and frolicking in the grass will tire them out. Hopefully.

On the bright side, I'm making $50 a day and I have an amazing view of Skaneateles Lake from the kitchen and deck. I think I'll eat my dinner out ther tonight. It should be warm enough.

And unlike living on a boat, I can use as much damn hot water and toilet paper (not at the same time) as I want.

One night down, four more to go.