I attract crazy people. Apparently Kootenay does nothing to repel them. We walk the seawall everyday. There we have met lots of nice people. We met Vitor and Spock, Dalmatian Dad, Pete, Daniel, Bruno, Greyhound Guy, and Long Hair just to name a few.
We have also met some odd balls. One guy wanted us to walk in the forest with him. Another wanted us to walk out to the lighthouse with him. One guy, who looked to be about sixty wanted us to come home with him and have dinner with his mother. Common sense and caution have kept me from taking up any of those offers.
Yesterday's odd ball was the best so far. I was sitting at Farol (coffee shop) working on my novel and was wearing earphone listening to Jenny Owen Youngs' new music (Love it). I heard the chair across from me being pulled back from the table. I was expecting Michael and Chris so I looked up and smiled. Sitting there was Joseph. I know this because he introduced himself to me and asked to buy me a drink. I declined the drink and started back at my computer.
"Nice dog" he says.
"Thank you" I respond cautiously. I didn't want to be dismissive, but my crazy-o-meter started to sound.
He is from Fatima, works in the tourism business, lives with his mom, is single, and likes to use his english.
Wow. All that information while I desperately scan the crowd in the Plaza hoping to catch sight of Michael.
Joseph calls over Barbara, my cool Brazilian waitress who graciously allows me to take up an outside table and moves the giant umbrella that keeps my pasty white skin from burning. I like her.
"Men in Portugal always pay for ladies' drinks." He tells me. As I didn't allow him to buy me a new drink he has asked Barbara to bring him my tab for the drinks I had before he got there. I only realize this after Barbara brings him a bill. The fast paced singsong Portuguese he and Barbara shared was more than my little brain could piece together. Lentamente. Slowly. A word I use often. How am I going to extract myself from this? And if a Portuguese guy spends 1.50 euros on you what does he expect?
I figure I won't have to worry about this because I see Michael and his friend Chris making their way to my table.
"We can find a free table" Chris says smiling "If you are busy." There is an implied wink in his gaze.
Luckily Michael is a better judge of what is going on and sits down. Phew!
Joseph quickly realizes that Michael and Chris couldn't fill the role in my life that he sees for himself. (They are gay. In case you weren't aware.)
As we all get settled and Michael and Chris pull out their playing cards I feel something on my toes. My first thought is that my feet are in the way of Michael's. I pull my feet back under my chair to make more room for him. Now i feel something moving up my leg. This isn't incidental contact.
Joseph now knows that it has been some time since I last shaved my legs. What the hell....
A big dog is supposed to save you from things like this. I look around for Kootenay. There she is with her head in the lap of Book Boy. Can't blame her. He is cute. Why isn't it his feet I am wrestling with under the table.

Moving...

My dog changed my life. Before she came into my life I lived a nice, quiet, safe life. I had a good job. It was not my passion, but it paid a living wage and had health benefits. I bought a safe fixer up style of apartment in a nice neighbourhoood and fixed it up. I was average and glad of it. While my friends went about marrying, breaking up, and living overseas I was happy to offer them a bed when they needed it and live my quiet life.

Then came Kootenay. Soon after she came into my home the people in my building decided that she was too big to live in our building and offered me a choice. Either I had to get rid of her or move out of the building. This was a difficult time. I had made friends with many of the people in the building and then had to choose between this dog I had just adopted and the security and friendship of the people in the building I had been living in for four years. I chose the dog. It was my first moment of madness. I am not sure I would have been able to make that choice had my sister not been around. She, in her ever practical and capable way, made the choice of moving because of my new dog an easy one. “Of course you’ll move,” she said. As if selling the home I had lived in for four years for a dog I had for only four weeks was the most normal choice in the world.

So with her help and the support of all my family and friends I put my put my house up for sale and planned a future in a new neighbourhood with my new pet.

Luckily I have a friend who knows almost all of Vancouver. Michael introduced me to Tim, who took on selling my place. It was not an easy task. The strata minutes were messy. We, the building residents, had started down a path of unkindness to each other that would be hard to stop. Neighbour picking on neighbour is a difficult thing when you live in such close quarters and like all negative emotions, once you start focusing on the negative it becomes difficult to stop. As sad as I was at losing the friends I had made in the building moving was the right choice. If a dog could cause so many people to be so unhappy it was better to not live there.

So, I sold the place and started looking for a new one. This time I would have a better idea how to read strata minutes and making sure my dog was welcome would be the top concern.