Tuesday, 22 October 2013

90-Minute Refugees

Out! Get out! This is not your home anymore! 

This is the implicit message of a real estate showing; however, our agent, Garrett, couldn't be more off-message (in the best sense). I'm starting to understand that long-haul success in real estate — dealing with people through potentially crazy-making anxiety — requires the resources of a highly skilled therapist. Garrett's got the goods, and he was characteristically calm and supportive as he saw us out the door ahead of this morning's 10:30 - 12:00 agents' showing.

He even indulged my request for a photo (which wasn't meant to be sepia, but something weird happened with the original). I think Garrett should use this on his website.

So ... Paul, Freddie, and I left home to wander aimlessly for an hour and a half. Not five minutes into the journey, however, we met with a dog training opportunity! As we approached, these grain-pecking pigeons exploded in a great papery flap, and Freddie — highly skilled service dog that he is — lunged into the fray. Bah. Fortunately, these pigeons were stubborn enough that they went back to pecking. We got Freddie to sit, with the promise of crunchy pumpkin bits if he managed to stay that way ...

... while Paul startled the poor pigeons again ...

... and again.

Aaannnnd .... do you see Freddie in these photos? NO! That's because he is staying put. :) Good boy, Freddie! Pumpkin treats for you! The pigeons, at this point, wisely took up a Hitchcockian stance on the roof of the post office and glowered at us until we left. Good pigeons.

I'm not sure which store this is, below, but it's near 4th and Pine and is currently kitted out with a series of moustache mirrors for Movember. Whaddaya think? Is the "Gruffy Chevron" for me?

We carried on, a little less aimlessly, for I remembered my Walking With Freddie readers' recommendations of the Plöger Delikatessen. So we went!

I was a little uncertain going in, as this "NO PETS" sign in the door didn't include the usual "Service Animals Excepted" in the small print. However, as you can see, the photo was taken from inside the joint. The guy at the counter was initially hesitant, but he checked with his boss, and all was well.

Waiting for our cappuccinos (not very German, but the Vancouver food scene is nothing if not eclectic!).

Groovy selection of deli wares ...

... and some good advice.

Mmm ... cappuccinos were tasty ... but the main subject of this shot is Paul's change purse. Do any of my readers (most likely female ones) recognize this item?? Answer down below!

Before heading back home, we dropped a few things off at the New Home and were delighted to meet our über-friendly new next-door neighbours, Charles and Sheila. Here's a selection of the things they said to us:

"Would Freddie like a treat?"
"Would all of you like to come in and have a look around?"
"Go check it out, Freddie! Good boy!"
"Anything you need, just let us know!"

Woo hoo! We've scored in the great neighbour lottery — which, given how much we dig our current neighbours, is way up there for us in housing-related priorities. Very fortunate are we that the "refugee" part of this post's title is nowhere near the truth.

Oh, and that change purse? Brownie uniform accessory. Circa 1972. Beacon Hill Brownie Pack. I was a Gnome. :)


  1. I would like to point out that I do not bite my nails. If you look at the photo closely, you will see that they are merely closely trimmed.

    1. I'm glad you clarified that. I didn't want to say anything.


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