To be honest, I kinda expected my dog-sitting days were over, until one day, out of the blue, I received a text from my good friend Amy Jane. Below is our conversation, lightly paraphrased:

Amy Jane: “We’re going to Iowa in November, how would you like to come up to Whidbey Island and cat-sit for us?”
Me: “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh….”
Amy Jane: quickly, sensing hesitation “And also we can arrange for Ralphie to be there.”
Me: “All right, I’m in.”

Before long, I was packing my bags and setting off. Whidbey Island is a brisk 20-minute ferry ride north from where I live in Everett, although that brisk 20-minute ferry ride frequently includes two and a half hours waiting in line. This time, I chose my spot perfectly, and breezed in. 

Whidbey Island is beautiful. It has that charming, quaint, tight-knit community feel of each town introduced in the first two minutes of every episode of Murder, She Wrote. 

We settled in over soup and Monday Night Football, and my friends filled me in on the particulars. First up is the cat Nadine. This is what she looks like.

I like Nadine. She doesn’t like me. I’m not sure why, I feel like I’m a very personable guy. On occasions, when she ventures near me, I’ll pet her, and she’ll give me a look before sauntering away, dripping with disdain like only a cat can. Hence my hesitation at the beginning of the call.

Luckily, cats are low maintenance. You throw some food in the general vicinity of their bowl, they’re fine, and if you die, they’ll live off you until the cops arrive for a wellness check. 

Then there’s the golden retriever, Ralphie. He’s pretty much the best.

Ralphie’s about 38 in dog years, but with the energy of a hyperactive teenager. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer – he might not even be a spoon – but he makes up for his lack of intelligence with an innate sense to throw caution to the wind and give everything 110%. He also enjoys eating fallen apples from the apple tree in the back yard that have been fermenting on the ground, so he also just might be drunk. Luckily, as it says in the Good Book, if you lack brains, you can compensate with beauty. 

And that’s a large reason why I’m here. A good-looking dog like Ralphie is a chick magnet. Any lady would look at the two of us and think “Anyone who owns a beautiful dog like that would never be a murderer!” and strike up a conversation. As a single man, Ralphie is the best wingman money can buy. And I just so happen to be looking for a girlfriend (preferably Canadian, for obvious reasons). It’s a match made on Whidbey Island. 

Day 0 (AJ and Graham have not left, they’re leaving tonight) has been uneventful. Ralphie and I took a trip up to Fort Casey. Disappointingly, there were no beautiful single Canadian women, or even average ones. There was one old man flying a kite, a few mothers with shrieking children, a couple teenagers smoking pot, and the two of us. 

Still. We have four more days. Ralphie and I are going to make it happen. 

Further updates as events warrant.