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In September 2010 Express Commission provides commission advance s to leading residential, commercial, and industrial real estate agencies and business brokers across Australia.

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Selected article shown below. See all articles for this issue.

Animal Antics.

    
Cat on My Tail

I arrived early to an open house and decided to get the home ready before the public showed up. At the front door, a sign was posted: “Do not pet the cats. It is OK if they get outside. Thanks!” Simple enough, I thought, and I entered the home.

As I flipped through my files at the kitchen table, two grey cats approached. One jumped up on the table and walked up to me, rubbing up against my leg. Being the animal lover I am, I went to pet the cat but then I stopped myself, remembering the owner’s request.

I then entered the guest bedroom to turn on the lights and pull up the blinds. As I turned to the doorway, I spotted the other cat staring at me, hissing and growling. I talked to the cat in a soothing voice, slowly walking toward the doorway to exit the room. But the closer I got, the louder he hissed.

Before I knew it, the cat leapt onto me, digging his sharp claws onto my bare leg (I was wearing a skirt). I screamed, kicking my leg side-to-side trying to get him off! Eventually, he let loose. But he wasn’t going to keep me out of his sight.

I bolted into the master bedroom, and the cat followed. My client was due to arrive any minute and I had a deranged cat stalking me!

The devil kitty followed me into the next bedroom, cornering me between the bed and the wall. Fearing another attack, I jumped onto the bed and weighed my options: A) Jump out the open window of the one-story house or B) Pick up the small end table and throw it at the cat.

Fortunately, before I could pursue either of those options, I saw the neighbor outside on his deck. I screamed for help. And honestly, at this point, I was crying. The neighbor heard me and moments later he crawled through the window wielding a squirt bottle full of water.

It worked. The cat raced away. The neighbor filled me in on this cat’s history of attacking people — it had even attacked his wife while they were pet sitting for the sellers.

Five minutes later, after the excitement died down, my client arrived. I lead my client through the home, armed with the neighbor’s squirt bottle, of course. I later learned that the owners ended up giving their cat to a rancher so that the cat can now chase mice instead of real estate practitioners.

— Alicia Romero

I Thought It Was Your Dog!

During my first year “in the trenches,” I was showing a home to a family that included three young, energetic boys. As the boys ran around the home and the yard, a small dog tagged along. The dog played for a few minutes with the kids and then jumped onto the sofa and promptly went to sleep.

I showed the prospective buyers around the home for about 45 minutes longer, and when everyone was ready to go I tried to pick up the dog and put him in the back yard, where I assumed he belonged. But he growled at me and looked irritated at being disturbed, so I left him there on the couch where he looked right at home. I locked up and went on to the next house.

About 5 minutes later, my phone rang. On the other end was an irate lady who lived at the home we just visited. “Whose dog did you leave in my house?” she shouted. All I could say was “Yours?” Obviously, I was wrong! It turned out that the dog belonged to a neighbor one street away.

— Missy Horst

Mysterious Voice

“Hello!” I yelled as I entered a home that I was previewing for a prospective buyer. I wanted to make sure the owners had left before I toured the home. “Hello?” I yelled out again. A voice yelled back “Pat!” — that’s my first name.

“Yes?” I answered, surprised this person knew my name. The voice responded again: “Pat!” This went on for another minute or two; the voice kept calling my name and I kept answering. But no one came to greet me at the door.

Finally I walked further into the home, following the sound of the other person’s voice. I entered the family room and the voice shouted again: “Pat!” I turned my head to respond, but instead of finding another person I found a caged cockatoo. I’d been responding to a bird! In my defense, the squawking sounded unmistakably like my name!

— Patrice DeVille

Who Let the Dog Out?

The rain pelted down as I fumbled with the lockbox of a home beside a quaint park in Stockton, Calif. When I finally opened the door, a cute little dog — a beige cockerpoo — came rushing out. I tried to shoo it back into the home, but it scurried between my legs out into the rain, darting full-speed to the park.

I work as a buyer's advocate. My client and I then noticed a sign on the inside of the door: PLEASE DO NOT LET DOG OUT!

The two of us took off to the park chasing after the elusive little beast, around the trees, swing sets, and the merry-go-round. Obviously the little monster found this exercise quite amusing, jumping in every mud puddle along the way.

We finally cornered him. The dog was drenched and caked in mud. Now with the dog apprehended, it was back to what should have been our main focus in the first place — the house. The home had immaculate white carpets and was no place for a muddy dog, so I put the animal in the equally immaculate garage, where he wouldn’t be able to escape again.

A day later I received an angry call from the listing agent asking if I was the one who dared to place Sebastian in the garage all dirty and wet. Sebastian who? All of a sudden I had flashbacks of chasing a muddy little dog in the pouring rain.

As I tried to explain what happened, she instantly cut me off. “Can’t you read? The sign was on the front of the door!” she said, hanging up the phone before I could say a word. I picked up the phone to call her back to explain, but then I stopped myself.

I realized that the rainy chase in the park with Sebastian was a blessing in disguise. It was an excellent bonding experience — albeit a messy one — for my client and I.

— Robert Moreno

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