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Showing posts from October, 2024

(Post #38) From Purrs to Paws: A Farewell to Miss Kitty and a Hello to Niki

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Only eight days left with Miss Kitty, and I’m already feeling a twinge of sadness about saying goodbye to this little character. But soon, it’ll be time to bid adieu to the cat naps and hello to Niki—a sprightly 5-year-old schnauzer. Niki’s owners have invited me for a dry run to get familiar with their home and routines, which is a common and comforting step for both parties. I actually first met them back in July, fresh from my Ontario trip, and we clicked well enough that they decided I was the right fit for their home and Niki. I always appreciate when people trust me with their beloved pets and homes—it feels like a little vote of confidence! So, I’ll be back with them start of November for a walkthrough, just in time to start the real stint. I’ll be there until the end of November, right in the heart of Victoria, just steps from my gym, plenty of shops, and an array of restaurants. I might even pretend to be a tourist! Unlike Miss Kitty, who’s perfectly content with her independe...

(Post #37) The Unexpected Turn of Miss Kitty (and My Life)

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My North Saanich chapter is coming to a close soon, but I still have two more luxurious house and pet-sitting gigs lined up to wrap up the year in style (Nov/Dec). One's in a dreamy condo in Greater Victoria with sweeping views of James Bay—I might need to remind myself it's not a vacation. The other is in stunning Cadboro Bay, perched near the southern tip of Vancouver Island, where I'll be staying in a jaw-dropping, three-level modern beachfront home. I think I’ll have to pinch myself to remember I’m there to watch their pet, not just the sunsets! Martha and Darren will soon return from Italy, regaling me with their travel stories (and probably rubbing in all that gelato they had without me!). While they've been soaking in la dolce vita, I've been here, quietly discovering a new rhythm in their tranquil home. The funny thing? I wasn’t just looking after their shy and skeptical cat, Miss Kitty—I was also learning some things about myself. You may recall that when I...

(Post #36) Cat Sitting and Blind Dates: When House-Sitting Leads to Adventure

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Cat sitting is always more laid-back. Ms. Kitty, however, still treats me like I’m about to whisk her back to the wild, despite her cushy life with Martha and Darren. My tasks are simple: food, litter box, done. It’s a breeze—but my life doesn’t stop just because I am a nomad on “cat duty.” In fact, I was about to do something I hadn’t done in years: go on a blind date. Well, sort of blind. My friend Sandy decided to play matchmaker. Real estate agents, it turns out, have a knack for setting people up, and this time, I decided to give it a go. He had my photo, I had his, and we’d even spoken on the phone. I figured it was time to meet someone new. To my surprise, he turned out to be a fellow nomad! What are the odds? We planned to meet for coffee in Langford. He splits his time between Nanaimo and Malaysia—because why not? Originally from Calgary, he packed up his car and set out for BC, just like me. (I couldn’t help but wonder how many storage bins he’s lugging around.) I knew right...

(Post #35) Brewing Friendship and a Cat Named Miss Kitty

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I visited Martha and Darren a few months before they booked me for this house/pet sit. It was a bit like a blind date, but with fewer awkward silences and more cat talk. There was an instant liking and relaxed and laidback feeling being in their gorgeous home. Martha put it so clearly as saying that I came into their home as a stranger and left as a friend. It’s moments like this that make my nomadic lifestyle feel less like work and more like a string of heartwarming reunions—with the added bonus of being surrounded by some of the most adorable pets. Martha and Darren are that couple who seem like they were molded together—over 46 years of marriage and still going strong. I mean, really, how often do you meet couples like that? And, fun fact: Darren is a Brewmaster. Yes, that’s right—a Brewmaster. So if you’re a beer lover, you’re probably already jealous of me. He even brews his own beer right in the garage, which makes me feel like I’m house-sitting in some secret, top-tier brewery....

(Post #34) A Little Dog and A Fireball in Brentwood Bay

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After spending a whirlwind summer in Ontario, catching up with friends, family, and a few forgotten landmarks, I was more than ready to plant my feet back in BC. With four different stops on my Ontario tour, I was grateful for two things: the memories I’d made and the fact that I had retired to the West Coast. There are some things about Ontario I don’t miss, but visiting reminded me why it was home for so long. While in Ontario, I reached out to two new house/pet sitting hosts. Both wanted to meet me online, and in typical fashion, I dazzled my way into both gigs. It meant cutting my Ontario trip short for the September gig, but hey, duty calls—and Zara the dog was waiting! I had a couple of weeks to fill in before I started there, so I spent some quality time at my friend Deb's place who has two cats. Conveniently for Deb, I played the perfect role of pet-sitter while she snuck off to England for two weeks. Seems like my nomadic lifestyle isn’t just benefiting me! The second gig ...

(Post 33) Warm Embraces, Fun in Niagara Falls, and Back on Track

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The drive from my cousin Chuck’s lakeside retreat in Huntsville to Hamilton, was a breeze. With my favorite playlist blasting and podcasts keeping me company, I was in the zone. Right on cue, Shelley and Carrie arrived, practically leaping out of the car to grab my bags. We didn’t skip a beat as the excited chatter filled the car on our way to Grimsby. Carrie had set up an extra bed for me in her room, which felt like a throwback to childhood sleepovers—complete with giggles and late-night talks until we would finally drift off. Shelley was staying in the basement suite, where I had lived for a year, and Taylor, a wonderful young woman renting the upper bedroom, completed our generational crew. Picture it: me, the senior nomad; Carrie, fabulous in her 50s; Shelley, thriving in her 30s; and Taylor, rocking her 20s. We were a diverse, wine-loving quartet! With all our experiences, wisdom, and wine corks, we could probably open our own winery. My house and pet-sitting escapades were, as a...

(Post 32) From Bread and Lakes to Life-Changing Goodbyes

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 The canoe ride was surprisingly relaxing—once I let the blood drain back into my white-knuckled hands from gripping the side of the boat like it was my last life raft. I sat at the bow, and naturally, Chuck took charge of the tiller like the captain of a luxury liner. He was gentle with the speed, casually pointing out landmarks, and though I appreciated the commentary, I knew it was his subtle way of keeping me calm. Every now and then, I’d glance back at him, his face glowing in the sunlight—or maybe just glowing from the sheer relief that I hadn’t yet capsized us. Later, he confessed that every time I flinched, he braced himself for us both to go flying overboard. Honestly, I felt a little bad, but, you know… it’s me. What did he expect? Eventually, we made it to a quiet little spot where we could pull the canoe ashore and start our hike. We climbed up a not-very-impressive waterfall (more like a babbling brook on a good day), but once at the top, we settled in with our snacks,...

(Post#31) Dough, Docks, and an awkward position: A Day in the Wilderness with Cousin Chuck

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I awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and a view from my bedroom window of lush, green trees. As I walked into the kitchen, there was Chuck, hovering over the sink like a mad scientist with a jar of mysterious white paste in his hand. He turned, grinning, and said, "Good morning, cuz! Sleep well? You ready for a great experience?" In his hand was the jar, which I soon learned contained sourdough starter—a little living jar of flour and water that somehow creates bread from its good bacteria and bubbles. "You see this?" he said, holding it up like it was the holy grail. "This is the starter. It’s alive. You feed it like you would a pet, and if you're lucky, it doesn't turn into a science experiment gone wrong." He explained how the starter had expanded by 50% since the last feeding, demonstrating by pouring a little bit into water. If it floats, it’s ready to make bread. Who knew I’d be testing floury blobs for buoyancy first thing i...

(Post #30) Spa Night, the Lake, and the Cousin Who Has It All Figured Out

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 After a pleasant stay in London, Ontario, I knew it was time for a change of scenery. So, the decision to visit  my cousin Chuck at his secluded lake house was perfect. The man is a marvel—70s, single, and thriving in his own wilderness haven. We’re both filled with energy and animation, which made this road trip even more exciting. This wasn’t just a quick catch-up over dinner. No, this was four days of living under the same roof, and I was eager to see what Chuck had been up to in his rural kingdom. The drive north was peaceful, if not a little nostalgic. Ontario’s beauty, especially up north, never disappoints. After 4.5 hours of driving through traffic and finally hitting the open country, I found myself winding down the road to his cottage. It had been a while since my last visit, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a smooth, newly built road leading right to his place—of course, all built by Chuck himself. The man is a genius with his hands. As soon as I stepped out o...

(Post #29) London Buses, Oven Disasters, and Life's New Directions

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Arriving at Mary and Tom’s felt like stepping into a museum, minus the velvet ropes and "Do Not Touch" signs. Their home, an antique-lover’s paradise, was brimming with relics from their globetrotting escapades. Victorian charm oozed from every corner—giant floor-to-ceiling windows, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a royal ball, and those baseboards you only see in period dramas. The whole scene screamed fancy, and I, in my nomadic haze, was tiptoeing around trying not to leave smudge marks. With them away, I thought I’d take a walk on the wild side—sans rental car, thank you very much. Walking to the grocery store? A brisk 20-minute jaunt. To the gym? Oh, just 30 minutes. Downtown? Another 30 minutes. I told myself it was a "fitness regime," but really, I was just enjoying the people-watching. Walking past all the century homes, spectacular architecture of government buildings and cathedrals. Not something you can observe as closely when driving. But t...

(Post #28) The Great Ontario Summer: Friends, Family, and Fancy Guest Rooms

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The decision to head back to Ontario felt like the right one. I mean, after a year of house-sitting adventures, including narrowly avoiding death by fire, dealing with a haunted house, and escaping a potential stalker, I figured I’d earned myself a little break. Two months of rest, relaxation, and reconnecting with friends, family, and colleagues sounded like the perfect way to remind myself of what matters in life. On July 9th, I boarded a plane out of BC, planning to stay in Ontario until the end of September, since my next scheduled house/pet sit isn’t until October, unless, of course, something changes my mind along the way. Being away for so long meant I had to get creative with my accommodation plans—no couch surfing for this nomad. Luckily, my friends always come through for me, and this time was no exception. They insisted on offering me their best guest rooms, no less! Who needs Airbnb when you have friends like mine? The first to step up was Vania, a retired colleague turned ...

(Post #27) Koda and Calm: The Unexpected Joy of a Quiet Sit

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There’s something magical about driving up to Nanaimo, BC—coastal views, scenic landscapes, and the knowledge that I’m about to spend time with one dog instead of two (hallelujah!). I had already met Koda’s owner, Nicole, a true zen master who creates essential oils, candles, soaps, and all things serene. The house was like a spa retreat—until you open the freezer and see bags of raw beef and veggies meant for Koda’s gourmet meals. Yep, as a vegan, I gagged every time. But for Koda? I powered through like a champ. Speaking of Koda, this husky was stunning—fluffy, energetic, and ready to show me the ropes. What I didn’t know was that huskies talk. No, really. I thought Koda was dying at first, only to realize he was just having a normal husky chat with me. "Is this what a dog TED talk sounds like?" I wondered. When we weren't debating life in husky-speak, we were enjoying zen moments practicing yoga (yes, we) in the living room and tossing a ball in the backyard, or headin...

(Post #26) - A Close Call: When Peace and Quiet Turned into a Warning

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After the whole ghostly escapade, I was more than happy to settle back into a routine at John’s place in Langford. The dogs, who had been on high alert at the log house, seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. They quickly adjusted to suburban life, and I was just as happy to trade eerie noises for the sound of kids playing and birds chirping. Life at John’s was calm and predictable. No weird intercom static, no rogue heaters, and certainly no flying food processor lids. The dogs and I fell into a blissful routine of morning walks, lazy afternoons, and cozy evenings. Everything was so… normal. Turns out, I needed “normal” more than I thought. But, of course, my life couldn’t stay drama-free for long. One quiet Sunday morning around 7 AM, I decided to take the dogs for an early walk. The two-lane residential road had one section flanked by thick forest, part of a regional park. While the trails in the park offered a shortcut back to John’s, walking along that part of the road alw...

(Post #25) - Nothing Prepared Me For This

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So there I was, enjoying what was supposed to be a peaceful, dog-filled house-sit on Pender Island. That is, until things took a turn straight out of a horror flick. Picture this: I'm minding my own business in the kitchen when the intercom—yes, they had an intercom—started making static noises. If I had been in a movie, this would be the part where the lights flickered, and a mysterious voice would whisper, "Get out..." Instead, I just stared at the crackling speaker like it had betrayed me, and fired off an email to Trish and Dan, who were now somewhere out on the open seas, enjoying their cruise. Trish’s response, once they were back online, was the pinnacle of calm: “Oh, that happens sometimes when someone nearby installs a new system.” Right. Because apparently, intercoms get jealous when their neighbors upgrade. The solution? Unplug it. Simple. But I was already starting to feel like I was living inside a haunted house. And then it happened again. The next day, as I...

(Post # 24) A Very Different and Unexpected Experience: How I Became a Ghost Hunter—Somewhat

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After leaving my time with Ripley behind (April/May), I found myself moving just across Pender Island to another house-sitting gig (May/June). This time, it was with Trish and Dan, a couple I had met on the beach during one of Ripley’s many adventures and who knew my last house/pet sitters. Their place was like something out of a forest fairytale—a big, cozy log house that used to be a Bed and Breakfast. They had decided a few years back to hang up the “No Vacancy” sign for good because, as Dan put it, “serving bacon and eggs before 9 a.m. gets old fast.” I was invited to stay with them for a night before they left on their cruise, which was a great opportunity to get to know the house, the dogs, and—most importantly—the story behind it all. As soon as I stepped through the door, I was greeted by two dogs, Katie Mae, a Shar-Pei/Golden Retriever mix with soulful eyes, and Zorra, a feisty Border Terrier who acted like she ran the place. These two were clearly in charge, and I had a sneak...

(Post #23) Finally, a "Normal" Pet Sitting Adventure—With an Added Bonus

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I wasn’t used to a dog being off-leash, but with Ripley, it was a must. She was the queen of the land, and who was I to challenge her royal ways? So off we went, down the path from the house toward the first entrance of the forest trail. And how did I know I’d arrived? Well, they’d thoughtfully pointed out a poop bucket—yes, you read that right—which marked the spot where the trail began. Handy, right? When I told a few friends about this poop bucket, they were puzzled. "Why not just leave the poop in the forest? It’s good for nature!" Uh, no. Deer poop? Sure. Rabbit poop? Fine. But stepping into a pile of Ripley’s gifts would be like walking into a human toilet. So, yes, the poop bag and bucket routine became part of my daily trail ritual, and I’ve never been more grateful for such a landmark. Ripley, of course, led the way, trotting ahead like she had somewhere important to be. Every so often, I’d trip over a branch and make a groaning noise, and without fail, Ripley would ...