cat-sitting (lyn)

Brulé and Zulú

Alexander’s grandparents are visiting Lisa (their daughter) in California, and will be gone for five days.  They offer my son a job:  feeding their two cats, Brulé and Zulú.  They will pay Alexander better than he could make at any other job (not that he has any other job).  My son readily accepts.

The job is not a complicated one.  It involves two trips a day to the Westside.  Alexander has to feed the cats by 8am, and again around 6.  He also needs to give one of the cats some pills.  Oh, and he is of course responsible for cleaning the kitty litter. 

I am impressed with how responsible Alexander appears to be.  He sleeps at his grandparent’s home most of the five days, because a) it doesn’t require him to get up at 7, to make it to the Westside by 8, and b) he gets his own gorgeous two-bedroom apartment with no one around to tell him what to do — an ideal situation for a 20-year old.

Alexander’s grandparent’s return yesterday, and well, they are less than pleased with their cat-sitter’s performance.

Some of the lesser infractions probably would have been ignored had there not been more major ones.  On the side of easily overlooked:

• A pot is put away without being thoroughly cleaned.
• The Brita water filter is not refilled.
• The ratio of water to soap is incorrect in the soap dispenser Alexander did refill.

But the bigger problems are difficult to ignore:

• The first day my son forgets to give Zulú his pills, and chooses instead to double up the dosage the next day.
• The kitty litter is never completely refilled; instead, only solids are removed, thereby leaving a five-day odor from the cats’ liquid output.

But perhaps worst of all, "The cats look fatter."  (This, according to Alexander’s grandmother).

I doubt Alexander will be able to get a good reference should he decide to make a career of cat-sitting.  Better he stick to economics.