I love each and every one of the spaces and the pets that we watch through our petsitting business, Woof Woof NYC. It’s not the largest or fanciest home we’ve been in, but it is so efficiently and thoughtfully designed that it is set quite apart, in my practical mind, from everywhere else.
Nestled into a corner of the East Village, folded in among the stacks of low-rise buildings that crowd the small streets with alphabet avenues, lies what feels a rustic, a Maine cabin. I halfway expect to look out the window into a tight square of lawn, edged with pine and tangles of leaves overthrowing from a seeping forest lapping at the edges of a cutout civilization.
But this isn’t that. It’s a duplex apartment in the heart of the East Village. Loud bars, the clamor of dishes being eaten off, reggaeton blasts from cars as they either slowly drift or rapidly blast by. Among all this busyness is this inner sanctuary, where each morning I plan to cut fresh fruit to cook up in our morning porridge.
We can pull up chairs and sit at the bar, where Sandy checked on his work, while I cooked.
The AC is broken!
The house is scorching, and if it weren’t for my being on call to care for a 14 year old while her mother is away at the hospital for surgery, we would have been royally screwed in terms of suitable housing. I really don’t feel comfortable placing a pet, and ourselves, in such circumstances.
Luckily Kentucky feels quite at home at the other place, which fortunately is just three blocks away from this petsit. I can move between the apartments monitoring the temperature and grabbing what things we need from our intended domicile.
I understand the owners’ conundrum as we are struggling ourselves with a much delayed install of AC into our Bnb. One is at the mercy of their technician trying to schedule anything AC related at this time of year.