First Impressions

Closing day was exciting and stressful. I vacillated between a feeling of eagerness to finally own my own home and a sense of impending doom that, as a single woman who knew nothing about owning a home, I was embarking on the road to emotional and financial ruin for a second time in my lifetime.

After an hour of signing and initialling documents, I accepted a fistful of keys and a stack of appliance owners' manuals from the sellers, a basket of pansies from my real estate agent and drove to pick up Nelson, my three-year-old Airedale, to introduce him to our new home. I had a split of champagne I'd been saving for a special occasion stashed in the back corner of my fridge. It had been a gift to ring in the new millennium but, at the time, that didn't seem like something worth wasting a good bottle of bubbly over. Closing on my own house was definitely a cork-popping occasion. After clawing my way out of a car repo, a foreclosure, tons of credit card debt and the emotional trauma of an abusive marriage that didn't end well, I had achieved the American Dream of owning a home - a home of my own.

The house key with a laminated yellow fob displaying the name of the previous owners in black magic marker slid smoothly into the lock and Nelson and I entered through the kitchen door of our new home. I opened the champagne and filled a flute I had brought with us for the occasion. I unpacked some cheese and crackers that I shared with Nelson as I sipped the champagne and walked around the house. I enjoyed the second glass from the contented comfort of my new front-porch swing. I thumbed through the stack of owners' manuals I received at the closing. I was delighted to see that the stack of booklets included an area survey map with neighbors' names written in the appropriate lots and there was an old photo of the house taken in 1908.

After pouring the remainder of the champagne into my glass, I decided it was time to introduce Nelson to his new backyard. I opened the sliding glass door that leads to the back patio in time to see an older man, hunched over, scrambling along the fence and headed away from the house. I immediately deducted that it was my next door neighbor. I am going to go on record here as saying that it was the champagne that encouraged me to wave my arm in the air and shout, "yoo hoo! Are you my new neighbor? I'm Bonnie and I just bought this house!" He raised an arm behind his back without looking away from his task.

In the same instant that I realized he was chasing after a chicken, Nelson was gone like a shot and pouncing in a play posture between the man and his Rhode Island Red. The man let out a panicked moan. "It's okay," I hooted, "he won't hurt your chicken." What a stupid thing to say ... again, the champagne. I didn't know what Nelson would do with a running, wing-flapping hen on the loose. Fortunately for me, Nelson responded to my recall and the man, whose face I never did see, disappeared behind the stockade fence at the end of my property line.



Although a crisis was averted, I still felt like maybe we hadn't made a great first impression on our new next door neighbor.

Beyond the Bovines

Okay, so the cows were an attraction, but the charm of a remodelled 1837 farmhouse located 12 miles from work was a big draw too. It's funny how many of my wishlist items this house fulfilled ... odd things like I wanted mature maple trees, stone walls, a potting shed, a porch, chickens ... did I say chickens? No. Maybe sometime down the road, but not until after I get settled.


I did notice, on my first walk around the outside of the house, that there was a makeshift chicken coop in the far corner of the backyard.


As anyone who has purchased a home knows, there are a lot of phone calls and e-mails exchanged between real estate agents, sellers and buyers prior to closing day. The one that really made me laugh and confirmed the rural locale of my new home, came from my real estate agent one afternoon. It went something like this ...


Agent: The sellers would like to know if you would like to include their chickens in the purchase of your new home. They have two hens.


Me: No, I think I'll take a pass on their generous offer.

Several days later ...


Agent: The sellers have found a home for their chickens and would like to know if you would be willing to part with the coop, so they will have someplace to stay.


Me: It's a big sacrifice on my part, but yes, I guess if it means the chickens will be comfortable in their new home ...


The best part was moving in to discover that the chickens and their coop had moved about 20 feet away into the back corner of my neighbor's back yard.