Roaming in Retirement

I left one Bay for another Bay. Easy, right? Except the names sound so similar I half expected to drive back to Remy’s place by accident. From Cadboro Bay to Cordova Bay—it’s like someone ran out of creativity on the nautical naming committee. But here’s something I love about this nomadic lifestyle: I don’t just drive past these places and wonder what it’s like to live there—I actually get to find out. Cordova Bay has history, views, trails, and now, thanks to Nellie the cat, peace of mind. Let’s start with the view. I wondered if the condo would offer one, and oh boy, did it ever. A wraparound balcony with two exits (yes, Nellie gets VIP access 24/7), overlooking not just the ocean and Mount Baker, but also a perfectly manicured golf course. That’s right—every morning, I sipped my tea while spying on golfers through the provided binoculars. If that view is not a sign from the universe to keep up my golf lessons, I don’t know what is. Speaking of which, I hit the driving range a few ...

My six weeks with Remy, the energetic labradoodle of Cadboro Bay, somehow came and went in a blur of walks, weeds, and a few whiffs of victory. You might wonder what one does with six weeks and one high-powered dog. Walks? Yes, plenty. Often peaceful, occasionally action-packed. Case in point: the day before the homeowners returned, Remy and I were out by a local school—kids running wild, but Remy was composed. Mostly thanks to my now-reflexive mantra, “Leave it,” followed by a morsel of treat like I was dealing blackjack in Vegas. Then, from the opposite sidewalk, came a young girl (maybe 12) walking a Great Dane-sized beast who clearly did not believe in leash laws—or physics. The dog saw Remy. Remy saw the dog. I tensed. The  dog lunged towards us. The leash got let go (no surprises there). Chaos. The girl froze. The mom screamed. I, now a full-time action star, spun Remy around and shouted “HEY!” at the incoming missile in fur form. The dog stopped short. Crisis averted. My ...