Amy Palleson
Card Designer/Photographer
Origins
Sometimes the long and short of Life is that you get a Masters in Teaching but not a job in teaching and your pet sitting side hustle becomes your entire work life. And next thing you know, it’s May 20, 2016, and you’re making your first post on a new pet sitting Instagram account of a collage of pics with the caption “A dog’s celebration of Spring.”
The dog in the collage is Mildred—aka, The Mildred, certainly you’ve heard of her—and I’d sat for her and her sister, Missy, for a few years before making that first post. Mildred didn’t care to walk in any other weather but pure sun and there were many days when I decided what to wear based on the assumption that in either snow or rain, I’d inevitably be picking Mildred up during our walk when she’d at some random point simply refuse to go any further. So when I made this first post it was with years of walks with Mildred under my belt, when the weather would come down on us all and-- with her sister patiently waiting for the clown show to wrap up--I’d stoop down to get Mildred and her wet and muddy body would settle against mine, both of us then sharing equal amounts of disgust for the weather. So this initial post on my new Instagram celebrating sun and spring was rather a celebration that belonged to all three of us. We definitely earned it.
When Mildred and Missy’s family was away on trips, I’d send them updates including pictures and videos of my visits with the girls, and eventually their human let it be known that she thought my updates were so funny, she’d share them with folks who didn’t know me. And I suppose that comment was the genesis of Only The Moon Howls, as it helped me see my impact in a way I hadn't before. Because sometimes that's the long and short of Life.
Below are some more of the fodder I posted to Instagram, both of Mildred and the other hundreds of pets I've sat for since 2011.
More posts of
The Mildred
Petey
IG 6/13/19: I get that a pet sitter is not what I envisioned for myself and that when I was done with my masters, I debated going on even further because I love research and writing and collating statistics into something accessible. And I get that it seems like when you have an idea in your head of what happiness and fulfillment might look like it becomes tricky to shift gears, for life is the story we’re telling ourselves and breaking out into the spontaneous song of plot twists is often boxed in by thought and assumption. But that I started this business then eventually wasn’t able to get a teaching job and now find myself this very morning sitting in the backyard of a house in Rose Park looking down at Petey, the dog who “never likes anyone,” (who was found on the streets and only adopted into this home because he was a bonded pair with another fostered dog she intended to adopt) as he looks up at me with trust and a sense of emotional safety is just really the happiest I could ever be. And I wanted to express that and tell the world listening of this gratitude. Because too often we get stuck by our own minds and we miss our entire life and I don’t want to do that, and be boxed in by my own self. So: Thank you, Universe, for helping me find this happiness, and thank you for the disappointment and hardship I endured that I could become something better than I ever thought was possible. [Also, the owner now loves and is bonded with Petey but he still cows to her sometimes and is a bit of an enigma. Traumatized animals often are].
George
IG 8/18/18: George and I during a full-service snuggle session on the couch complete with hug, tender paw to face AND nose, followed by rolling over on my lap, gazing up at my eyes, and “chatting.”
🌿🌿🌿 [I’m going to be 50 years old October 1, 2018. I’ve lived a lot of lives in a single one, and can hear reverberations of self bouncing around in my cells and my soul, chorused with that of society—stereotypes and patterns of thought— which has before kept me moving in ways which didn’t make me joyful but which I did not question for reasons of both habit and distraction. And I have encountered those who believe a pet sitter is of a certain station and intelligence, bearing simplicity unable to standardize within societal algorithms, and I’ve made my peace with the fact that even my girls’ dad tells them that I don’t have a “real” job. 🌿🌿🌿 But there is a certain point in life when you see a bigger picture of all, a point at which through connection and calm you derive sensations of well-being to where you must change. And that is where I’ve been. And am better for it. 🌿🌿🌿 For in the end, change is the breath of who we are and anchoring into the simplicity of heart is the most complex thing you’ll ever do and once you realize that, looking good to society becomes silly. Because, beyond habit and distraction, holding space for the tenderness of the world is all any of us can ever truly want for all else is just the journey. And settling in on the couch—in a deep snuggle sesh—I am happy to be there for that world and show it that there’s nothing more important than George].
IG 12/28/2020
Dear Chubbs,
I still have those boots. I actually wore them yesterday. I’m not necessarily proud of that fact but I thought you should know.
Things are currently pretty weird here on earth. But I wanted to tell you that your family has pictures of you on the fridge of their new house and that you have two sisters now—Spartakiss and Marge; failed fosters—and sometimes when I’m sitting for them, I talk about you.
Marge has some of the same colors as you did. I bet you’d like these girls. At the very least you’d respect Marge’s skepticism and Spartakiss’s devotion to eating.
Anyways, I saw this picture on my phone when I was writing something about the sunrise and remembered that morning we took it. Thanks for being here, Chubbs. You did a lot of good.
Love, peace, treats,
Amy
[Chubbs passed in February after his parents got home from their trip]
I have no idea why I did this to myself because now I’ve got tears on my face at the near-beginning of my workday but such is the flow of life.
Chubbs
Oscar & Pica
IG 7/18/19 : Hiking with Oscar and Pica—who recently moved from Capitol Hill to Emigration Canyon—surrounded by rustling in bushes and thoughts whistling (is the the sound large or small? advancing or fleeing?). And ahead, a lone howl where there are no houses calls out the better of pushing through on this trail I don’t know, and as we walk back, in my mind is what I’d do if something (moose, cougar, coyote...) tried to hurt the dogs, and as the sun becomes a predator, I know I’d do whatever it took to save them (sorry Livy [she worries about me]) and making our way down, Oscar looks back to make sure I’m okay like he’s already done a dozen times and in that moment I realize that he’d do the same for me.
Finn
Jazzy & Trouble
Kiki & Yuki
Ginger
Gonzo
