The novel joys of simple deviations

A break from the ordinary may be just the boost of joy you need

In my imaginary autobiography, pet-sitting would have its own chapter. Taking care of other people’s animals, along with their children, homes, cars, and gardens, is a recurrent theme in my life. And I don’t do it out of altruism or for money. I do it because I enjoy it.

I suppose I’m uniquely qualified for this role because I don’t have pets, kids, or houses of my own. I’m the responsible, reliable, usually available friend who can be trusted to follow directions, stick to a routine, not burn the place down, and send pet pics to doting parents on vacation.

But I’ve often wondered … what does it say about me that I enjoy these minor disruptions to my usual life? Most people might be willing but grumble at the idea of uprooting—or they have their own animals and spaces to tend to and simply don’t have the additional bandwidth.

I wrote previously about how borrowing has enriched my life because it allows me to sample and enjoy novelty without the commitment. But pet sitting also provides a much-needed deviation from the habitual, something I’ve come to believe is necessary for personal growth and expansion.

After spending a week house- and dog-sitting for friends Chris and Alanna and their pup Nico, exploring the new-to-me neighborhood of Laurel Canyon, I’ve concluded that the bite-sized disruptions created by being temporarily charged with caring for another family’s animal and living in their home could be categorized under “underrated joys.”

It’s the underrated joy of bonding with a new animal. Every dog and cat has a unique personality. They may not be as nuanced and complex as humans, but they’re quirky, predictable, comical, affectionate, and perceptive. Nico is a 70-pound mutt who looks vaguely German Shepherd-esque with a bushy tail and soft brown eyes.

It’s the underrated joy of wandering quiet streets under the moonlight, stepping in and out of the shadows and exploring a new route each evening. With a dog, walking at night is viewed unsuspiciously and is a convenient cover for pausing and snapping photos. He’s happy because he gets a vigorous walk in new environs under the cool cover of darkness, key for a jet-black dog.

It’s admiring and judging the architecture and landscaping of homes as diverse as the humans who own and inhabit them, especially in an eclectic place like the Hollywood Hills. The higher the elevation, the larger the homes become, unencumbered by the lush forest of the lower canyons. Personally I prefer the cozy warmth of trees and rustling leaves to sweeping, unobstructed views of the city and only palm trees for shade.

In Laurel Canyon, one of Los Angeles’ wildland oases nestled in the Santa Monica Mountains, north of West Hollywood and south of Studio City, the urban fabric frays and separates to accommodate jutting hills and dramatic cliffs. The grid networks present in the flatlands of Los Angeles become a twisted, disorienting system of arteries and veins slicing through the dense forest and scrubland.

One street in particular—Wonderland Park Avenue—is home to an unbroken series of exquisite mid century modern homes including L.A. Conservancy’s Case Study House #21. Unlike the bloated, maximized square footage of newer, larger homes in the area, these modest and precise homes blend with nature, neither obfuscating nor impeding the wilderness of the surrounding area. Subtly breathtaking is an apt descriptor.

Unlike where I live in Filipinotown, there’s both a relief and a sense of danger in separating from the rest of the city. It’s serenely peaceful in its lack of urban noise and constant movement. Wild animals, a plethora of insects, and a rich diversity of flora commingle with human neighbors—but they’re winning, based on the number of spiderwebs I’ve taken to the face. But, a precious few routes in and out of the neighborhood would make evacuation, for a wildfire or due to an earthquake, chaotic.

Dog-sitting and house-sitting are the underrated joys of pretending—to be someone else, to inhabit a different world, to be separated from my routine in order to appreciate their routine. It’s the closest I get to cosplay.

I used my seven days of living canyon life to develop some new habits. I’m at the final section of Breaking The Habit which provides instructions for how to gradually build a regular meditation practice, so I’ve used the time away from my norm to establish a morning “induction” routine. It consists of about 20 minutes of heat-to-toe body scanning and envisioning myself as a teardrop and then looking at myself, in my mind’s eye, from above as an observer. 

So far, so good.

Instead of replicating my usual exercise routine, I’ve taken advantage of the many nearby trails to go hiking every afternoon, something that’s harder to do from my usual location. Wilacre Park is a great out-and-back loop of moderate difficulty I suggest.

In being away from my usual, I’ve also eaten a different daily breakfast of sliced strawberries, bananas, and plums, while maintaining my staple of two hard-boiled eggs. Before she left, Alanna showed me how to make watermelon juice by pureeing chunks of fresh watermelon with ice in the blender. I drank that this week instead of coconut water.

I also allowed myself to do something I rarely do: binge a racy murder mystery drama. Presumed Innocent is on Apple TV, and is a sexy, worth-the-calories watch featuring Jake Gyllenhaal.

Broadly speaking, routines and habits provide structure and order for our lives and for our minds. We take comfort in the familiar. I know I work better when my space is clean and everything is in its place. Nevertheless, I’ve come to appreciate that simple deviations from the routine provide me with necessary contrast and open new neurological pathways of novelty and underrated joy.

If this resonates, I encourage you to deviate from your typical in some way this week. Drive a different route without the assistance of GPS. Eat dessert for breakfast and breakfast for dinner. Volunteer to dog-sit for a friend and relish the opportunity to discover a new part of your city. Say “yes” to something you might normally say “no” to.

A simple deviation may be just the boost of joy you need.