There’s nothing quite like being a grandparent—especially when the “grandchild” in question has four legs, a tail, and a deep love of squeaky toys. My son lives in Clayton, NC, about an hour and twenty minutes from me, and whenever he needs a break, I get the delightful job of dog sitting in Clayton, NC, for his sweet pup, Bonita. Some people take cruises for their vacation; I pack up for a weekend with my grand-dog. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it.
Bonita and I have a routine. Within hours of arriving, we head straight to the neighborhood dog park. It’s her happy place. Toys are launched, legs are stretched, and her ears flap in the wind like furry parachutes. She chases everything I throw like it’s the finals of the Dog Park Olympics.
After about thirty minutes, she inevitably collapses in the shade with her tongue hanging out, sprawled like an exhausted athlete. I snapped a picture once—her lying flat, the very picture of canine contentment—and it still makes me laugh. Mission accomplished: dog worn out, grandma free to get a little work done.
Now, Bonita is crate trained, which sounds neat and tidy until you try to convince her it’s bedtime. She doesn’t throw tantrums. Oh no, she’s far more dramatic than that. She slinks. Picture a slow-motion soap opera star making her way up the stairs, head hung low, glancing back at me as if to say, “Really? After everything we’ve been through today?” If she could roll her eyes, she would.
Of course, once she’s inside the crate, she settles down. But the performance leading up to it deserves an Emmy. If there were awards for funny dog-sitting stories, Bonita’s dramatic routine would take first place.
One of my guilty pleasures of dog babysitting is exploring Clayton. Since I don’t live there, every visit feels like a mini vacation. While Bonita naps, I sneak out to explore shops, browse boutiques, and sample restaurants we don’t have back home. It’s the perfect mix of dog cuddles and kisses and personal adventure.
I’ve discovered cozy coffee shops, local diners, and little stores that make me wish Clayton were just a tad closer. Each trip turns into a blend of dog grandma moments and small-town exploration.
Bonita has a heart the size of North Carolina itself. She loves cuddles so much that if I so much as pause mid-pet, she lets out the softest little whine—as though I’ve just broken an unspoken contract. I’m retired, so I have the time, but even I can’t maintain a 24/7 cuddle schedule. Try telling that to Bonita.
She is also a world-class kisser. If affection could be measured in licks, I’d be the wealthiest woman alive. You can’t sit down without her trying to plant one right on your chin. She’s the definition of a cuddly, affectionate dog.
Because I’m retired, my schedule doesn’t match her parents’. I stay up later, happily reading, writing, or scrolling long after Bonita thinks it’s bedtime. Without fail, around 10:30 p.m., she gives me “the look.” It’s a mix of confusion and exasperation, as though she’s saying, “Excuse me, Grandma, but aren’t we supposed to be under the covers by now?”
If I ignore her, she huffs dramatically and settles into her bed with the air of someone taking the moral high ground. I eventually cave, of course. Nobody wins a standoff with a determined family dog.
This particular visit was just from Saturday morning to Sunday morning, but it was packed with all the Bonita classics—dog park toy chasing, dramatic crate protests, marathon cuddle sessions, and late-night bedtime negotiations. I wore her out at the park that first morning, and she snored the entire afternoon like a tiny chainsaw. It gave me time to catch up on work, though I’ll admit I spent more time watching her twitch in her sleep than typing.
By the time I packed up to head home, I was already looking forward to our next weekend together. Every visit reminds me that being a dog grandma in Clayton, NC is one of the sweetest perks of retirement. She may not be able to call me on the phone, but her excitement when she sees me says it all: Grandma visits are her favorite too.
Some people ask if it’s a lot of work. Sure, there are leashes, crates, feeding schedules, and the occasional muddy paw print across the floor. But the trade-off is unconditional love, laughter, and the joy of having a little furry shadow for the weekend.
Plus, unlike raising kids, I can hand her back when the weekend is over. My son gets his dog, I get my peace and quiet back, and everyone wins.
Until the next call from Clayton, I’ll be waiting—ready to pack my bag, lace up my sneakers, and head to the park with Bonita, my affectionate, dramatic, cuddle-loving grand-dog.