We're on Funda

Is this really our house? So.. cleaned up!

Photo ready!

Making your house photo ready is a big job. They want your house to look like a hotel room: cleaned up and clean. No clutter, clean, no personal items, no family pictures, no pets, no traces of pet, no Zoomba's, no children, certainly not babies, ... In other words: nothing that hints to YOU.

Not easy if you have a lot of stuff, like to have piles of books, also on the floor, like to cook, like to use the stairs as handy extra shelves.

So, yes, this was a heavy week. But, we do have a very nice and big spacious house. Never knew that, really. Photos tomorrow.

(← See! Empty stairs!)

Tonight we'll have chinese.

(No one is allowed to touch this clean kitchen.)

Zoomba en de køtkat

Een weekje na de vorige blogpagina kom ik met hond de buuf tegen, waarop zij kreet: "héé, dat is de hond die laatst achter mijn kat aan zat!". Ik zei: "ja, dat kan". Nou, dat was niet zoals zij het zich wenste. En dat zij "maatregelen" zou moeten nemen als het nog eens voor zou komen. Ik zei: "ah, je houdt je kat binnen?". En zei, "doei!", en ben doorgelopen. Trut.

Leuk he, mensen die zeiken dat mijn hond in hun tuin achter hun kat die in mijn tuin zat aan zit. (Precies één van de redenen om een wat dunbevolkter deel van de wereld op te zoeken.)

Køtkat

[Dit verhaaltje speelt in augustus, red.] Er zit al een tijd een fraaie jonge kat in onze tuin. Dit voorjaar viel ie al op: mooi muisgrijs, slank, naïef poezig rondkijkend. Uu kent het wel.

Nu blijkt het beest er eigenlijk altijd wel te wezen, en zo ongeveer te wonen, onder de rozemarijnstruik/varen. Gezellig is het er ook, het poezenhol is gedecoreerd met enkele gedroogde vogelvleugeltjes. Zelfs met regen biedt een varen nog wel een zekere droogte. Echt schuw is ie ook niet, als ik de deur open laat zit poes binnen. Mja, hatsjoe, traan, snotter, snurf, en zo.

Een bezoekende kattenkenster riep: "hé, dat is een abbessijn! [Het lijkt eerder een "chartreux", red.] Wat een mooie!". En, "die is vàst weggelopen, ergens!". Wat toch een zorgelijk gevoel losmaakte, gezien de er reeds aankomende winterstormen, overstromingen, op stapel staande Zoomba, en zo. En dat je zo'n dier toch niet buiten in de kou...

De dierenbeschermering maar eens gebeld. "O, maar het kan best zijn dat de poes het gewoon èrg leuk vindt in uw tuin, en 's avonds gewoon naar huis gaat. Weet u wat, doe 'm een bandje om met uw telefoonnummer!".

Een bandje omdoen.. Hoe dat je dat bij een kat..?

Een blikje kattenvoer. 49 cent van de AH. Hm, ruikt geeneens verkeerd. Paté? Dat vond poes ook, en liet zich zelfs over de bol kriewelen na een paar hapjes. Een dag later en een poezenbandje+adreskokertje rijker (à 4,50 + 2,00), nog een poging: en succes. *klik!*

Erg gewaardeerd werd de halsband niet, er werden koddige sprongen gemaakt, maar daarna toch nog een hapje gegeten, dus het viel wel mee.

Een uurtje later: telefoon. Een beledigd klinkende buurvrouw van verderop, dat er een BANDJE OM HAAR POES zat! En dattie best wel een thuis had, en eten, en 's nachts bij haar op bed... (Getver, al die mensen met hun beesten op bed!)

Ach, het beest heeft dus een thuis, en daar ben ik blij om. Hij(?) lijkt het naar z'n(?) zin te hebben, en ik vond het een naar idee om zo'n beest een dierenbeschermingdomesticatietraject (3x woordwaarde) in te duwen, met pootjes en opzitten, en zo.

Zoomba part 10: Home, really, now

Well, we had just three full days here, and needed to be in Alicante early Sunday morning to catch our flight to Rotterdam, so we had to leave Saturday afternoon. And guess what? Saturday morning the RCD was dried out sufficiently to let us have power! Well, at least that allowed us to have a vacuum clean session.

And we need to make sure the house stays better ventilated when locked up. The cellar now has a big opening to the kitchen, so damp air from below enters the house. Not good. But we want the electricity to be completely shut off while not there, so we can't use the ventilator that is there now. Perhaps install a small solar cell powered fan, next time.

Pack the car, lock up the house, switch off the power and water, off we go. The hotel is on one side of the highway, so we need to drive 10 km past it, and then turn. Nice room, huge bed. Can't hear the traffic, good.

Dinner. But, Zoomba has a big preference for lying on the bed, which even in dog-friendly hotels is not "done". As a test we lock her up in her bench, and leave the room. We stay behind the door to hear what will happen. And yes, a short bark, followed by some wailing. Hm. Enter room, just to show we're still here, but ignoring her. Repeat exit. Again, "WoOoo!". Damn. Another short entering of the room, just to show we're still around, and exit. "WoOooOo!" This time we decide to give it a few minutes, or else have dinner separately. And she shuts up.

Well, even though it is not very relaxed, with a locked up dog, we need to eat. The restaurant turns out to be a big self-service canteen. You should not order lamb chops in such a place, but burgers and fries. However, we were being posh, and had them anyway, with a small bottle of ros&eacute. The fries were okay, but the rest was not. Make up with a chocolate pie and coffee.

In France you often get the most vile and bitter coffee, we've never had bad coffee in Spain yet. Every "café solo" was good, and here, too.

We let Zoomba out of her prison, put the old sheet on the bed, and had a warm little dog curled (see pic above) up between our feet. Just this once, then...

"We have forgotten something."
"hm?"
"We forgot to actually close the gas bottle downstairs."
"HM!"
The bottle is outside the house, but still, not a comfortable feeling. We must ask V&W to shut the bottle, and tell them where the key of the locker is.

Breakfast is take-away, too. A croissant, a cake and something apple-y. Sweet? "My dentist is rich."

Off to the airport. Checkin. and get a sticker for the bench. You then deliver your dog and bench to a special office, where they will scan the bench for hidden "merchandise", as we were told by a friendly fellow passenger with same bench, and quiet dog, that Zoomba was quite not in like with. (WOOF WOOF! Grr! etc.) Best you are with two people, one staying behind with luggage, the other taking care of checking in the dog, as you are scanned as with regular security. Then you lock up the Zoomba, and you are off shopping. Well, actually you only hand in your dog just prior to boarding, as to have her in strange hands as short as possible.

The quiet dog was quiet because he was on half a pill, his owner confessed. But, the airline tells you not to, because a dog may seem quiet, but isn't. And may not be able to control his body temperature well.

And once boarded the plane you must check that your pet was actually put on board with the purser. She was there, and Zoomba, too.

Rotterdam. You oldfashionedly get off the plane with stairs, and then must board a bus that will transport you the remaining 100 meters to the arrival. There you must wait behind a glass door, watching the plane, and seeing the luggage and dogs being unloaded. Ah, there she goes! And there she is! Eager to get out of the bench, but we'll only do that outside the terminal building. That strip of green may have been the first actual grass she had under her feet.

The one hour drive was okay, with a Zoomba that needed to sit on your lap to have a better view of the outside world.

At home she sniffed around, while we pointed out where her cushion and basket were. Try the garden? Why not. Open garden door, let Zoomba out, see Zoomba fly over the fence after the third neighbour's cat. "Woof woof!" (Zoomba) "Scream! Scream! Yell!" (neighbour woman).

This was rather undesired behaviour, apart from getting rid of the cat, as this dog has no notion of traffic, roads, cars, so this is potentially lethal. We found her on the pavement. So, no free reign garden for you, unfortunately. Bloody cat.

Zoomba part 9: "Home"

Here is what you need if you want to drag along your dog on a plane. A big plastic box with a door. Remembering how Zoomba reacted when only seeing a cage we were quite worried how we could have her get used to being locked up in one for a few hours.

So we tried by having the bench, inconspicuously, in the kitchen, without it's door. It was ignored. A snack, conspicuously thrown in, was retrieved and consumed without a flinch. Well, that isn't bad? Repeated that a few times. The next day her food was only to be had in the bench. No problemo.

Now with the door in, open. Still, no problem. Door closed. That was new! But, it was clawed a bit, and then she just laid down, and made no fuss.

Then it dawned on us that at SOSAdopta she probably was locked up in a cage at night, which is not unlike our bench, and she's quite used to that. Good! Another worry gone.

Meanwhile there still was no electricity. My theory was that all is actually fine, but that the RCD itself is damp, and thinks the whole house is in danger. With all switches OFF the RCD still switched everything OFF the moment the mains switch was ON.

Without electricity it's not easy to dry something. No hairdryer, no warm lamp. An RCD is a closed plastic box, not easy to get it's insides dry... We just had to wait, and keep the house ventilated. We tried putting a big pan with boiling water next to it, hoping that radiated heat would help, but no. (Quite tricky to position a big pan with boiling water next to the RCD..)

And eat early.
No tv.
No internet.
Survival!

Tune in next time to see if this family survived...!