The first photo came through at 5:47 on Monday evening, while I was sitting on a dock two hours north with my feet in the lake. It showed Mabel in the living room window hammock, one eye open, looking at the camera like it owed her money. Under it the sitter had written: "She's fine. She's judging me, but she's fine."
I laughed so loud that Caleb asked what was wrong.
Why a sitter, and why this time
When we went up to the lake near Nisswa the week of July 14, Hank came with us and Mabel stayed home. She's eight, she's lived indoors her whole life, and she treats a car ride the way most people treat a root canal. Bringing her to a lake cabin with a wet dog would have been unkind to everyone. Boarding her somewhere unfamiliar for four nights didn't feel kind either.
For past overnight trips, my mom drove down from Mora to check on her, or we kept it to one night with plenty of food and water. Four nights in July was too much to ask of my mom, and Addie, the teenager down the street who would have been my first choice, was away at summer camp that week. So for the first time ever, I hired someone through an app to look after my cat.
Finding Tasha
I used Rover, searched for drop-in visits near Cambridge and spent an evening reading profiles the way some people read real estate listings. What I looked for:
- Lots of reviews that specifically mentioned cats, not just dogs.
- Someone who lived close, so visits wouldn't get squeezed between long drives.
- Calm, specific messages back to me instead of a wall of exclamation points.
- Willingness to do a meet-and-greet before I booked anything.
Tasha checked all four. She lives in town, has a cat of her own, and her reviews were full of shy cats who warmed up to her eventually.
She came over for the meet-and-greet the Wednesday before we left and stayed about twenty minutes. Mabel watched from the stairs, then came down, walked a slow loop around her and sniffed both shoelaces. Tasha didn't reach for her once. She just kept talking to me and let Mabel make up her own mind. That's when I decided. I've watched a lot of people handle a lot of cats at work, and the good ones always let the cat come to them.
We walked through the house together: where the food lives and how much, the litter box and scoop, the window hammock, and the places Mabel hides when she's annoyed (under our bed upstairs, and behind the boxes in the craft room). I left two pages of notes on the kitchen counter, plus our vet's number and the emergency clinic's.
What it cost
We booked eight visits of about thirty minutes each: Monday evening, then morning and evening Tuesday through Thursday, and a last one Friday morning before we got home that afternoon.
- 8 visits at $24 each: $192.00
- Booking fees: $21.00
- Tip at the end: $30.00
- Total: $243.00
It went into the pet tab of our budget spreadsheet under "travel," a category that didn't exist until this month. For context, the four nights at the cabin cost $1,240, so Mabel's share came to about a fifth of the lodging. Not cheap. Not unreasonable for a week of peace of mind, either.
The photos that calmed me down
At every visit, Tasha sent a few photos and a short note through the app: food eaten, box scooped, water changed, what Mabel was up to. Mabel on the back of the gray sofa. Mabel chasing the wand toy. Mabel's back, walking away. On Wednesday evening the note said, "She let me pet her today. Twice." I read that one aloud to Caleb on the dock like it was a telegram from the front.
The honest tradeoff is that I checked the app more often than I swam. I'm not sure there's a sitter good enough to fix that in me.
When we got home on Friday, Mabel ignored us for exactly one hour. Then she climbed onto Caleb's chest while he napped and stayed there until dinner. I've already saved Tasha as a favorite in the app. Mabel hasn't said whether she approves, which for Mabel is close to a rave.
