Stop Asking Me To Watch Your Pets
A few days ago I was asked to watch someone’s dog over the holiday. This is a request that is often asked of me. At least 6 to 8 times a year, I have a friend or acquaintance or friend-of-a-friend or friend-of-my-mom ask me to watch their house, dog, dogs, cat, cats, fish, or plants while said acquaintance is out of town. This has been my life since I was in high school. Apparently there’s something about me that screams, “I wanna watch your animals for a nominal fee!” I have no idea why or how that is.
My optimistic side says, “Hey Patrick that’s so awesome that your friend thinks you’re responsible enough to trust you with the life of their beloved pet.” This is a true statement. If you thought I was a possible meth-head or violent weirdo or lazy ass or just a general fuck-up, then you probably wouldn’t entrust me with the wellbeing of your dwelling and livestock. However, that’s where the silver lining ends. This proposition pisses me off every single time I’m asked. Here are the professional, economic, and social reasons that asking me to watch your pets is absolutely absurd.
My initial reaction, the instantaneous, guttural reason that I get furious, is that you seem to believe I don’t have enough going on in my life. I’m not entirely certain what you believe about the logistics of my lifestyle but it apparently involves gobs of free time. According to you, I have enough space and flexibility in my schedule to allow for adequate pet caretaking. It’s your assumption that I’m able to A) stay at your house B) feed Sparky twice a day C) let him outside twice a day and D) take him for a walk once a day. Yes, I’m an actor and a writer but let’s break that down real quick.
A typical day for me usually starts around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning. I understand how leisurely that sounds to some but let’s keep in mind that I was probably waiting tables the night before until 11 p.m. That’s like if a 9-to-5-er walked in the door at 6 p.m. on Wednesday night and then had to begin their Thursday at 3 a.m. You still with me?
Some days, my “double” days, I have to go give a tour on a Segway in the morning. (For those that don’t know, I also give Segway tours around Atlanta!) It’s fun and I get to meet people from all over the world and talk about a city I love. However I’m also talking for 3 straight hours and have to make sure no one dies while going 8 miles an hour on a Segway, including myself. It’s a major energy expenditure. I usually get home around 1:30 and have to be at the restaurant by 4:00. During that time I try to write, you know that thing that is my reason for being on planet Earth. When I get to the restaurant at 4:00, I’m usually there until at least 10:30 or later.
That’s my working life. I usually work 6 days a week. Somewhere in there, I get myself to the gym, go on auditions (the other reason I’m on planet Earth), apply for fellowships, grocery shop, do laundry, submit to writing contests, be a productive member of society, etc. I usually have 3 to 5 writing projects at any one time. On a typical day I spend maybe, just maybe, one whole hour awake at my own apartment, on account that do I most of my writing in coffee shops. So I know you think I just sit around all day picking at my toes waiting for my agent to call but that’s not really the case. I have to plan weeks in advance to have a single evening out with friends. I simply don’t have the space in my life, not to mention the brain space, to walk Fluffy twice a day and water all your plants and cut the aquarium light off before I leave and make sure the alarm is set and take in your mail and put down the pee-pee pad and change the littler box.
The second reason I get enraged if someone asks me to be a temporary kennel worker is that if I were in any other profession, literally any other profession, you wouldn’t dare ask me. If I were a corporate lawyer or middle-school teacher or HVAC specialist or business owner or CPA, you wouldn’t ask me to stay in your guest room while you go to Hilton Head for a few days. That thought would never cross your mind. For some reason, though, because I’m an actor you think I either A) am not busy enough B) am desperate for money C) don’t have enough meaning in my everyday existence or D) all the above.
Let me respond by saying: A) refer to the rant in paragraph #4 of this post. B) My time is more valuable than the $60 you want to pay me. I make a decent income between my 3 (soon to be 4) different jobs. Economically speaking, it’s more advantageous for me to spend my time doing something else. Every word I write, contest I submit to, acting workshop I attend, headshot I send out, brings me one step closer to my next gig (i.e. $$$) so therefore, yeah, you can’t really afford me. Check here to see the Screen Actor’s Guild day rate. If you can offer that (plus 10% for my agent) then we can talk. C) My multiple part-time jobs plus writing plus auditioning actually do bring me fulfillment and meaning regardless of any bitching or moaning I may do. My chaotic lifestyle is the lifestyle I’ve built for myself, good, bad, or otherwise. D) That’s rude.
The heart of the matter, the main reason I get so worked up over this issue is actually an emotional one. I’m single and without children and this plays a HUGE factor in your asking me to watch your pets, whether you realize it or not. It would be absolutely 100% out of the question if I had kids. Parents barely have the opportunity to feed and water themselves much less someone else’s animals. This is entirely understandable. It’s the nature of the beast.
You also wouldn’t ask me if I had a boyfriend/husband/partner/spouse. Even at that point, I’d fall into a different category in your mind. I’d be more of a domestic family man and not some wild, idle loafer who has no ties to other human people. You would feel ridiculous asking me to leave my beautiful Javier (fictional husband) in bed just so I could sleep in your spare room and ensure your house didn’t burn down.
Let’s get something very clear: just because I don’t have children or a significant other, doesn’t mean I have zero responsibilities. I do have responsibilities. You may think they’re trivial and that I just sit around drinking piña coladas all day whoring around without a care in the world. You’re allowed to believe that. The grass is always greener, I suppose. The core truth, though, is that my parental and marital status have zero bearing on my ability or obligation to help you with your life. Even if I did drink piña coladas all day while whoring around, I have no more of a responsibility to do you a favor than anyone else. That might make me an asshole. I’m okay with that.
I could analyze this all day long. So many guilty feelings and assumptions and insecurities bubble to the surface with something as minor as asking me to feed your cat. It’s dumb, I know. But, seriously, don’t be a cheap-ass, put your dog in a kennel. It’s part of being a responsible pet owner. They’ll be surrounded by other dogs and have a gay ol’ time being taken care of by professionals. And if you “could never do that to Mitzy” because you feel that it’s some kind of cruelty, then guess what? You should have thought about that before buying those tickets to see The Counting Crows in Tampa. Better yet, you should have thought about that before acquiring Mitzy. The long and short of it is: I’m an almost 30-year-old goddam grown man. Stop belittling me by asking a favor that should be doled out to a college student or high school kid from your neighborhood. Rant. Complete.
P.S. there are some exemptions to the aforementioned rules:
-my family (if you’ve helped me pay my rent a time or two, then you’re entitled to a few privileges)
-other artist friends (you know the life, you’re probably aware of what it is you’re asking of me, and you’re probably broke)
P.P.S. it occurs to me that the great irony in all of this is that I don’t even like animals in the first place. Truly. My closest friends will tell you I’m universally meh towards other people’s pets. Some people don’t get children. I don’t get animals. I realize it makes me a monster and a genetic freak. I can live with that.
AMAZING!! Yassss!! To all of it!!! ??
PS I would totally watch Albus because he’s definitely more doll than he is dog.
LOL The Counting Crows in Tampa hahahahahahaha. P.S. I’m outta town next week, can you feed my PeePie? 🙂 You’re absolutely right, it’s insulting. Reckon some folks still think of you as a kid? <3 U
I will feed your PeePie any time, my love. I’ve been waiting for years for you to ask.
… but what if I want you to watch my pets… indefinitely?
Does that change your opinion?
That’s an exemption to one of the exemptions.