I thought I knew what I was signing up for: a pet sitting week with two dogs, a cat, and some fish. One dog was indoors and one was outdoors, and I expected they would need the most attention. Then I arrived at the house for instructions. And saw the koi pond.
Surprise! The fish were not in a bowl. They were in a three-tiered waterfall ecosystem.
The owner gave me a tour of the koi pond environment. He had built it himself. It was an elaborate waterfall garden with terraces that curved down into the deep pond. It looked like a giant rock-carved water slide filled with lots of greenery and colorful flowers.
He showed me how everything worked, what to check, how to make adjustments to the water flow and circulation. He knew every water plant and what each one contributed. They were very expensive and personally selected.
This wasn’t just a waterfall and fish pond. It was his garden. Every day after work, he came home and experimented, moved plants around, and enjoyed interacting with this living ecosystem.
That’s when I realized the enormity of my assignment. I wasn’t just feeding some fish or checking on a pond. I was caring for someone’s passion project.
He explained that each water plant was delicate and affected the water quality for the sake of the koi and the garden itself. Sometimes the plants would move around and might block one of the terrace falls. I would have to notice that and rearrange the plant without harming it. Otherwise it would back up the water system and not be good for the koi.
Gulp. That’s a lot.
The owner introduced me to the koi fish: gorgeous, huge, elegant. He told me how much they cost; almost wish he hadn’t. Expensive fish, expensive water plants. And I would be in charge. He showed me how to feed the fish and check on them to make sure all was well.
Then he showed me the baby fish with a caution: Watch out for them because they might try to jump out.
Oh, my.
The dogs and cat would be the least of my worries on this adventure. Yes, I would take excellent care of all the pets and make sure they had what they needed. But the biggest challenge would be protecting something delicate that this artist had poured his creativity and care into: the koi pond. I sent up a silent prayer.
I would love to say it got easier as the week went on, but it didn’t. I was nervous every time I approached the waterfall garden, worried I would make a mistake or miss something. I checked the water, monitored the flow, turned whatever knobs I had been instructed to turn, and tried to keep the plants in the best possible positions throughout the terraces.
One morning a plant was blocking the water on the uppermost terrace. I tried carefully to move it out of the way and keep it on that level without breaking its delicate leaves. Sure enough, the plant slipped past my fingers and washed over the terrace fall. Down that long slide it went to the next terrace pond.
I went running after it, trying to catch it before it could reach the koi pond and disappear forever. I managed to reach it on the last terrace. Breathless, I carried it back to the top and tried to situate it. It didn’t look quite the same after its slide adventure. But I managed to reassemble it and found a nook for it. I’m sure the little indoor dog that was watching me through the front windows found that episode highly entertaining.
I never felt like I grasped the art of water gardening. I understood just enough to know what needed watching and more or less adjusting. I may not have gotten everything exactly right, but I could confirm that the water was clear and flowing. I could see the koi fish eating when I fed them. No babies jumped out, thankfully. The plants remained green. Everyone survived.
It must have gone okay because I was invited back on a regular basis for dog, cat, and koi sitting. I never did become comfortable as a water gardener. But I certainly could appreciate the beauty, the soothing sound of the waterfalls, and the bright orange flash of the fish. It turned that lakeside home into a tropical resort. Perfect for relaxing, with a touch of nerves.
On that adventure, I enjoyed the company of the dogs and cat, and developed a huge appreciation for the intricacies of that koi ecosystem. I learned that pet sitting is not always about the animals you expect to worry about. Sometimes it’s about understanding what matters to the person who loves them.
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Years later, I still remember that koi pond because it taught me something about caring for other people’s animals: every pet comes with a story. Each pet has its own routines, environment, ways of communicating, and meaning in people’s lives.
Those are the stories that help pet businesses connect with pet parents. I help pet-focused businesses turn their knowledge, experiences, and client stories into content that feels familiar and meaningful. Let’s connect if you’re looking for content that helps pet parents feel understood.
Janet Eriksson 