|THIS MUCH money. More, actually, this was just the cash portion|
We found a house online that had a garden and said pets negotiable. We called the agency, thinking that even if our foreignness wasn’t a deal breaker that our two (in Japanese terms of reference) medium sized dogs would definitely rule us out. The agency was unconcerned by either, and without really having had time to consider it fully we’d signed up; giving us less than a month to organise a move and all that entails, which includes doubling our commute times to our respective jobs. We’re moving from the center of the city to a remote suburb surrounded by mountains. The dogs will love it. It has a garden. It’s a real house, not an apartment. It’s going to be great… but all I can think about right now is how much I don’t want to move and how much I will miss our neighborhood. I love living in our building. We know our neighbors. The dogs have doggie friends to play with whenever we walk them. We can’t walk three steps at a time without someone sticking their head out of a shop doorway or apartment window and saying hello. We’ll be moving away from our little friend across the street, who is very nearly SIX YEARS OLD and likes to help us walk the dogs (who are called, according to her, Guri and Hayachiiii).
|Our morning route looks like this|
|and our evening walks look like this|
We’ll no longer be in walking distance of our gentle and kind vet who examines Hayate on the floor because being put on a table terrifies him. We won’t be able to take weekend walks down by the river or wander to our regular dog-friendly café for a coffee while the puppies play with enamored passers-by.
|The shiba love this cafe|
Our friends won’t be able to drop by for a chat on the way home from work, because we won’t be on the way to anywhere or anything. I know it is for the best, but I am taking it hard.