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Part 1 — The Phone Call
Ryan started with: so how’s the flat hunt going?
That should have been a signal.
Since March I had been temporarily staying at a friend’s while searching for something more permanent.
Ryan knew this.
He had brought it up at every family event, using a concerned voice, making sure everyone heard.
Then he got to the point.
He and Steph were going to Portugal. Ten days. He didn’t want to put the dogs in kennels because Bear was twelve and too old for it.
He said: honestly you’d be doing yourself a favour more than us.
Bear and Nell.
Bear was a twelve-year-old Rottweiler on tablets twice a day.
Nell was a spaniel who was afraid of the kitchen floor.
Four walks a day.
A forty-minute drive in the wrong direction from my job.
I agreed.
Not for Ryan.
For Bear, who had known me since he was eight weeks old and didn’t do well with unfamiliar people.
Ryan said: ah you’re a star. Genuinely you’re saving us about six hundred quid.
I arrived Friday evening with my bag over my shoulder.
Both dogs were ecstatic.
On the kitchen island was a spare key.
And beside it, a laminated A4 sheet.
Coffee — 60p per cup.
Milk — 30p per serving.
Bread — 40p a slice.
Eggs — 50p each.
Laundry per load including detergent and electricity — £2.
Showers over ten minutes — £1.50.
Handwritten at the bottom: just keep a running total and we’ll settle up when we’re back!
There was a smiley face.
I stood with my bag still on my shoulder for a long while.
Part 2 — The Gate
I called Ryan.
He and Steph were already at the gate.
He said: did you see the list? Don’t be weird about it. It’s just so nobody’s out of pocket.
I said: I’m doing ten days of unpaid work in your house.
He said: you’re staying rent-free in a four-bed, Katie.
I said: I was asked to dog-sit. Not to rent a room.
He said: and I’m not charging you rent, am I? I’m charging you for what you use. That’s fair.
Then I heard him say to Steph: she’s doing the thing.
With that, they left.
I fed the dogs.
I stood in Ryan’s kitchen in a four-bedroom house in a nice part of town and I thought about the envelope.
I had been thinking about the envelope for two days, since before I agreed.
Not because I had anticipated the laminated list specifically.
But because I knew Ryan.
And I had decided before I arrived what I was going to do regardless of what I found when I got there.
Part 3 — The Ten Days
I did all of it properly.
Bear got his medication at seven and seven.
Nell got walked first because she was faster.
Bear got walked after because he needed longer.
Four walks a day in all weather.
I drove forty minutes each way on the three work days.
I used four days of my holiday allowance.
I made myself coffee.
I noted down the cost.
I kept the running total exactly as the laminated list asked.
I noted every slice of bread.
Every egg.
Every shower.
Every load of laundry.
On Saturday before they came back I cleaned the house thoroughly.
Every room.
Floors hoovered.
Dog hair collected.
Sheets changed on the bed I had used.
Dishwasher run and emptied.
Kitchen wiped down.
I left the house in better condition than I had found it.
Bear had his Saturday afternoon medication.
Nell had her final walk.
Both dogs were fed and settled.
I placed the laminated list square to the edge of the island.
I placed the spare key on top of it.
I placed the envelope beside it with Ryan’s name on the front.
I locked up at three and walked home the long way.
Part 4 — The Envelope
The envelope contained two things.
The first was my running total.
Eleven pounds and forty pence.
Coffee, milk, bread, eggs, laundry, and two long showers.
Exactly as requested.
The second was an invoice.
I had prepared it over two evenings using a simple template.
Dog-sitting services: ten days at the standard local rate I had looked up for professional dog-sitters in their area.
That rate was thirty-five pounds per dog per day.
Two dogs.
Ten days.
Seven hundred pounds.
Less the six hundred Ryan had mentioned saving on kennels.
Net balance owed: one hundred pounds.
Minus my running total of eleven pounds forty.
Amount remaining: eighty-eight pounds sixty.
Or, if he preferred, I would be happy to call it even.
Below the invoice I had written one paragraph.
It said: Ryan, I was glad to look after Bear and Nell. Bear is a good boy and he was comfortable with me, which mattered. I used the laminated list you left and the total is attached. I have also attached an invoice for the dog-sitting, in the spirit of making sure nobody is out of pocket. Happy to call it even if you prefer. Katie.
No smiley face.
Part 5 — 4:52
He called at 4:52.
I let it ring twice.
I answered on the third.
He said: Katie.
I said: how was Portugal?
He said: we’re just back.
He said: you left an invoice.
I said: you left a price list.
He said: that’s completely different.
I said: is it?
He said: you’re family.
I said: yes. Which is why I came.
He said: I was saving you money on rent.
I said: I wasn’t renting. I was working. Those are different things.
He said: dogs aren’t work.
I said: four walks a day, twice daily medication, forty minutes each way from my job, four days of holiday allowance. What would you call it?
He was quiet for a moment.
He said: it was supposed to be a favour.
I said: yes. And I did you one. A six-hundred-pound one by your own estimate.
He said: you’re not actually expecting me to pay this.
I said: I said I’d call it even if you prefer.
He said: I’m not paying you.
I said: then we’re even.
He said: what does that mean?
I said: it means we each did something for the other and we’re calling it settled.
He said: you’re being very odd about this.
I said: Ryan. You left a laminated list charging your temporarily homeless sister sixty pence for a cup of coffee after asking her to give up ten days and four days of holiday to care for your elderly dog.
Silence.
He said: Bear’s not elderly.
I said: Bear is twelve.
He said: he’s fine.
I said: yes he is. I made sure of it. Twice-daily medication on schedule all ten days.
He said: look, maybe the list was a bit much.
I said: maybe it was.
He said: I just didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
I said: I know.
I said: neither did I.
He said nothing for a moment.
I said: the house is clean. Bear and Nell are settled. I left everything as I found it, better actually.
I said: I hope Portugal was good.
He said: it was.
He said: the weather was decent.
I said: I’m glad.
He said: Katie.
I said: yes.
He said: the invoice.
I said: yes.
He said: it was eighty-eight sixty.
I said: if you’re calculating you’ve already accepted the premise.
He made a sound that was almost a laugh.
He said: you’re a nightmare.
I said: I kept a running total. Exactly as asked.
He said: right.
He said: we’ll talk at Mum’s on Sunday.
I said: yes.
I said: give Bear a biscuit from me.
He said: he’s on a diet.
I said: I know. I was managing it all week.
He hung up.
I made myself a cup of tea.
At my friend’s place.
Where the coffee was free.
Some laminated lists have smiley faces.
Some envelopes contain invoices.
Some rates are looked up and calculated over two evenings.
And some long walks home give a person enough time to decide not to pick up until the third ring.
He called the list a bit much.
That was enough.
Bear got his biscuit eventually, diet or not.
He’d earned it.
