When I was in college, my good friend Zach was dog-sitting one week. Then Zach suddenly needed to go out of town for a family thing, and asked me to fill in for him over the weekend.
Zach and Me
I agreed, but later I too decided to go out of town, and so I had to find a friend to cover for me. We weren't off to a good start.
Problem #1. Before I'd even met the dog, we had a dog-sitter for the dog sitter's dog sitter.
Zach left town in a hurry, and since there wasn't time for me to go with him to meet Biscuit, he left me a hand-drawn map in my mailbox with some instructions and a key. I'm sure I thought something like, "No problem! I'll go over there in the morning with Jen (my friend covering for me), and we'll figure it out. We're both smart William & Mary students. This will be a breeze! Zach is so lucky he has a friend like me!"
Problem #2. Hand drawn map + arrogant college students = not a good day for Biscuit.
We got up early Saturday morning to go let Biscuit out. Zach's map showed the street where Biscuit lived and that Biscuit's house was right next to a home under construction. We quickly found the house next to the construction site around 7:30 am. But when we went up to the front door, much to our surprise, the key fit into the lock, but wouldn't turn! And reasonably, in our state of early morning alertness, Jen and I went into full-on panic. "What are we going to do?!! How will we ever get in to feed the dog?!!! Why did Zach give me a broken key?!!"
We decided to find another way into the house.
Problem #3. I am an idiot.
To our great joy, we realized the key fit into the basement door lock. The key still didn't really turn in the lock, but the door opened nonetheless. I felt like MacGyver. We were saved!
College housemates - Jen, MK, and Jan on my 21st Birthday
However, upon entering the house and climbing the basement stairs to the first floor, Jen and I were met with confusing circumstances. First of all, we saw lots of cat food, but no dog food. I wondered, "Why didn't Zach say anything about the cat?! Am I supposed to feed it, too?" Also, there was no sign of Biscuit anywhere. Jen and I walked all over the first floor calling, "Biscuit! Here, Biscuit!" and muttering to each other about how trashed the house was. "Who goes out of town, gets a male dog-sitter, then leaves boxes of tampons out on the kitchen table? That's just weird."
Problem(s) #4. Cat food + no dog + messy house + key not turning
This is when things got exciting.
Suddenly, we heard a toilet flush somewhere above us, and the sound of someone walking around. In the supposed-to-be EMPTY house.
Problem #5. Movement upstairs + the Problems #4 = Criminal Activity
WE WERE IN THE WRONG HOUSE.
We ran like the crazy felons we were, knocking a HUGE bag of cat food down the basement stairs...which made a sound truly like the fall of Jericho as it hit every.single.step on the way down. And we breathlessly sprinted around the house back to our car. Which was parked in their driveway.
We were frantically backing out of the driveway, ears perched for the sound of the cops coming for us, when we had a revelation.
Problem #6. We still didn't know where Biscuit lived.
So, obviously, we did the only thing we could thing of. We rang the doorbell. Of the house we had just accidentally broken into, trespassed, and trashed the basement stairs with spilled cat food.
They came to the door in pajamas. With some very suspicious/angry/tired looks on their faces. Totally on to us. We refrained from making eye contact while asking them if they happened to know where Biscuit lived. (You know, Biscuit? That name you just heard me calling inside your house?) They did not know where Biscuit lived, and quite rudely, they did not invite us back in for breakfast. Hmph.
Me and Zach (looking at me) with friends on our 1998 Summer Church Choir Tour. We were super cool.
Turns out, Biscuit lived one house over…discovered without any additional vandalism or the help of the cat-people next door.
Biscuit lived to see another day. I called Zach and reamed him for his terrible map-drawing skills. He did not apologize and taunted me with this story for years to come. Jen, thankfully, remained my friend, but was wary of doing me any more favors.
The End.
