It was a cold and crisp fall day. The sky was bright blue and the deciduous trees were vibrant with various shades of orange and red. The ground was slightly frozen and I knew soon the leaves would all be gone, and winter would inevitably be here.
As I prepared for my open house, I made a mental note of how good I looked in my brand new Ann Klein suit. I carefully pulled on my new Nordstrom hose, and the heels I only wear when I want to make a first impression. I made my open house checklist: Professional attire: check, Signs for schlepping: check, sign in book: check, flyer's and cards :check, 16oz double Starbucks latte to avoid caffeine withdrawals in the 3 hours,: check.
I was looking forward to meeting some fresh new prospects as I rounded the corner of this distinguished neighborhood.
As always, I arrived 15 minutes early to greet my seller as they were leaving. She was hurried, but pleasant. She said, “ I only have one thing to tell you: DON’T LET THE CAT GET OUTSIDE OR YOU ARE FIRED”.
Alrighty then…
Your royal highness Sophie was “ locked” in the laundry room with all of her earthly needs met and there was a large note on the door. “ DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR OR LET THE CAT OUT!” It was quite the feline executive suite I might add, including a kitty climbing gym, food, water, and a nice soft beddy bye.
As the open house guests began to pour in, I enjoyed meeting several new people and showing them the many features of this high end home. One guest was a neighbor who happened to leave me her phone number because she had relatives moving to town.
As I meandered through the house, I landed in the living room with a particularly slick looking couple asking probing questions about the house. There were a half dozen people coming and going. As we were looking through the large picture windows observing the newly landscaped front yard, I noticed- in horror-… her majesty frolicking in the grass. In mid sentence, I said…” EXCUSE ME, I have a little issue to address…ummm… BRB!”
At first I went to the laundry room, and you guessed it: DOOR WIDE OPEN NO KITTY.
Bounding through the front door nearly trampling the innocent newcomers who must have noted the crazed look on my face, I lunged after the cat and was flat on my stomach on the grass.( The ground was cold and hard, but the grass was still green enough to stain my new skirt.) She sensed my on coming nervous breakdown, and scampered off into the bushes bordering the neighbors house.
I quite literally DOVE into the bushes, while several open house lookers were gazing out the front window at me. With my derriere in mid air, I attempted to grasp the cat while the bush put a semi permanent scar across my left cheek bone, and my pewter hose were now accented with shades of brown on both knees. Although I am a church going Christian, I do recall mumbling a few four letter words, and none of them were "meow".
She ran. I now had a much more serious problem. I ran into the house and called the neighbor.
Umm…can you bring a search party over and help me find the missing cat? I am really in a bind, and you see I have people roaming around wondering if I am a nutcase and I need to catch this cat or I am in big trouble. She said she and her two boys would be right over. With the open house onlookers still wondering what was going on, we began to run around the yard yelling “ Here kitty kitty…”
A stroke of genius flashed into my mind…TUNA!
I ran into the kitchen with my semi bloody, muddy new look- and began to search the cupboards for tuna.
BINGO. Now I need to find the can opener. Rifling through the drawers, more people were coming and going, and the slick couple were still admiring the slate fireplace.
Breathless, I ran back outside with the tuna - nearly trampling the next set of open house lookers. Wordless- the neighbor boy pointed to the picture windows, and gawking at us from inside the house, were the slicks, a few others, and… you guessed it…the cat.
You have GOT to be kidding me.
The neighbor said…"Oh, yes- there is a dead ringer for miss Sophie in the neighborhood. Her suitor, who often admires her from afar." Those words “ dead ringer” took on a new meaning as I had a momentary lapse of sanity and visualized myself ringing the royal neck of the great Sophie.
Crisis averted.
With what I am not sure is humility or humiliation, I went back into the house, now smelling of the tuna that was dripping down my arms because I did not have time to drain it. How attractive I must have looked and smelled while apologizing to the slicks. (oh duh toilet albacore...a new fragrance?)
I put the cat back in the laundry room and put a CHAIR in front of the door. At that point I am sure the open house guests wondered if I was the one who should be locked in there!
Pulling myself together, I continued greeting people as if nothing happened.
You see, there are many hazards of this business and it never ceases to amaze me what is around the corner. It is actually one thing that endears me to real estate. I am never bored.
I truly care about what is important to my clients- and yes- I dive for cats and so should YOU!
(PS YES this is a true story!)
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