Dog walking in Crystal Lake by Megan N.

Inspired by Serving In Florida by Barbara Ehrenreich.

Picture a dog's hell, and I don’t mean a place with nowhere to run or play. Instead there is infinite open space for you to see and explore – a brand new park, a cold beach, a rickety metal dock – only here you’re being watched over by someone with an aversion to dogs. The drive to Crystal Lake is only the opening act, being nearly an hour’s drive there in solitude with only the comfort of music playlists that never seem to play the right song. The endless traffic and the driving of people who probably shouldn’t have licenses makes the ride there more exhausting than it needs to be. Arriving at the house and through the sliding door that is never locked, you realize you have under a minute left before the main event. The cats sitting on the couch by the door that purr when you pet them are the last comfort you get. 

The floor is covered with dog toys and spills from earlier in the day, a minefield to be cautious of as you make your way to the bedroom where the dog whines in her crate. Clipping the leash to her harness you let her out and are out the door ready to get this over with as soon as you can. You go the usual route down and find yourself by the park with the goose poop where you fight one of the hardest battles you’ll ever need to face: stopping the dog from eating goose poop. “Just tell her to leave it,” is what you’re told to do if she does that, but it never works. A close contender follows when you walk by the creaky dock on the edge of the lake and the dog decides it wants to try to eat every plant in sight. Walking near the beach is an easier task – that is if the dog decides that for once it doesn’t want to run straight into traffic. Sometimes I oblige to help her release some of her energy and will run along with her down the route, a decision that has made me fear passing out once or twice from the temperatures I stupidly ran with her in.

Picking up the dog’s poop is one of the absolute highlights of the day. She will find a patch of grass she likes and all you can do is pray that she lets it all out in one spot instead of trekking it around leaving you more to clean up.  The texture is impossible to grab in one handful through the bag, you have no choice but to leave a little behind stuck to the grass for the next passersby as you carry the bag – and your guilt – with you. It's nauseating, but it has to be done.

Once you're done and back in the house, the worst of it is over. You take the $20 left on the counter for you – probably less than it should be, but you don't mind – and one of the snacks left out for you. You’re finally able to start your hour-long drive back home. 

Most people would ask why take a job walking a dog when it’s so obvious you don’t like them. They wonder why work so far away then complain about the drive. Because doing the job makes you unhappy; but getting the job done makes the owner happy. The encore every week is worth it for the validating feeling of doing something for another.