Dear Prospective Clients,

My name is Calah Kulm and I am a local agent for Farmers Insurance in Spokane, WA. As many of you have probably heard, Farmers is now insuring homes that have ANY type of dog breed. There is no official announcement per se but all states have recently changed their underwriting guidelines to not discriminate against breeds. If your agent is uncertain, simply have him/her call their underwriting department to ask about it. Also, please call me with any questions and/or concerns and particularly if you live within my area and would like to meet with me! I look forward to helping you all and again, do not hesitate to contact me. Thank you.

Calah Kulm
Farmers Insurance
41 W. Riverside Ste 220
Spokane, WA 99201
Bus: (509) 270-2898
ckulm@farmersagent.com

First, there’s Queenie the Chihuawhat.  Chihuahua and what else, who knows?  I adopted her from the local humane society shelter.  She’s about a year and a half old, tips the scales around 6.5 pounds.  Full of mischief, loves to run and play, her past abuses weren’t so traumatic that it affected her behavior in a negative way beyond some occasional yapping which I’m fairly good at controlling.  She’s such a cool little dog that it blows my mind that anyone would surrender her to the shelter but sometimes shit happens.

Now mind you, if you leave a door open she’ll probably try to sneak out so I have to impress upon you to be careful coming and going.  Also, if you leave the door to your room open she might go in and steal your socks.  Beyond this, she’ll probably fall in love with you especially if you offer her a treat, something I’m always happy to provide.

Still with me?

Then there’s Willy…  He presents an issue that might be a bit difficult for the average person to deal with.

Willy’s a Pomeranian who’s estimated to be between 10 and 12 years old.  I think it’s an over-estimation, my guess is more like eight or nine, but the people at Muttville, a rescue shelter for senior dogs, say he’s older.  He tips the scales around eight pounds so he’s little like Queenie.

Like Queenie, Willy’s history is sketchy except for one thing.  There’s no doubt in my mind Willy came from a very abusive background.  If you shake your finger at him he’ll cower down to the ground like he’s been assaulted.  Wave a rolled up magazine or newspaper at him and he almost goes into seizures from fright.  Only dogs that have been badly beaten or hurt react in such fearfully drastic ways to such benign actions.

So what’s his issue or problem?

Aggression.

When you come or go, Willy’s going to raise hell and go into attack mode.  I’ve been doing all I know to correct this unwanted behavior but it’s going to take time and, hopefully, someone willing to help me.  He loves me like crazy, something that often baffles me but for which I’m very grateful.  I don’t think of myself as anything special or as having any special powers other than the fact that I’ve been a dog lover all my life.

The day I went to Muttville to meet Willy for the first time they warned me about his aggressiveness.  I was almost tempted to say “pass” but I’d already seen pictures of him on the internet and, beyond thinking he’s beautiful, I felt one of those inexplicable connections.  I was instructed to sit quietly on the sofa and wait until they could bring Willy out so that’s what I did.  Waited and wondered if I was going to be mauled but figured I didn’t have all that much to fear from a little Pomeranian.

So, here comes Willy the bad ass.  He didn’t lunge at me.  He didn’t even bark.  Big as you please, he got up on the sofa next to me, put his front paws in my lap and looked me straight in the eyes.  So much for dangerous, frightening aggression.  More like love at first sight.

Sadly, Willy doesn’t react to others the way he does me.  Like I said, he goes on the attack.  Well, as much as he’s able to attack.  So there’s no misunderstanding — he lunges and barks.  He growls, too.  A lot.

But he doesn’t bite.

He can’t bite. Whoever had Willy before Muttville rescued him fed him such a bad diet, gave him such poor care, that it led to severe periodontal disease.  His teeth were slowly killing him so they had to be extracted, every single one.  So no matter how aggressively he reacts toward others he can’t hurt anyone.

Now you know.

I want to rent the room to someone who has a real love, real respect for animals and the patience to at least acknowledge my dogs when they’re coming and going.  Just something silly like “Hey, gang!  Who wants a treat?”.  Nothing that involves prolonged training periods because I could never rightfully demand such time and effort from anyone.  Just some silliness and friendliness.  I truly believe this would be the key to helping Willy overcome his aggression problem.

I’ll happily provide the treats.  By the way — silliness and friendliness cuts across all ways.  It isn’t limited solely to the dogs.  I believe home should always be a place of welcome.

Would you still like to see the room?

How easy!

I want someone who pays rent on time and in full.

I do not want someone who needs long written lists of house rules.

I want someone who knows how to dwell peacefully, respectfully and responsibly with others.

More to come…..

I dislike the word because it implies too much sharing, more than my room offer allows.  I rent out a room in my residence in order to augment my income.  The extra money allows me to survive in one of the nation’s most expensive economies.  My name is on the lease, no one else’s.  It’s also on all the utility bills as well as the bills for internet and television service (which currently I don’t have, being not much of a tv watcher).  I paid all the deposits, too.

My experience has been that people who want to rent a room in someone else’s home are usually looking for temporary situations in addition to a way of saving money.  Often they’re students at the local junior college, away from home for the first time, who haven’t had time or opportunity to establish their credit.  Other times I’ve rented to people who were starting over in life – relocating to the area for new careers or getting back on their feet after divorces or other catastrophes.  Again, people looking to save money whose credit may not be that great.  People who appreciate the convenience of only having to pay monthly rent without all the obligation and responsibility of all the other ongoing expenses.

We don’t share just “a” room.  We share several – the bathroom, kitchen, sometimes the living room, the garage and patio.  However, I provide the washer and dryer, usually all the kitchen and cooking necessities and, on a couple of occasions, have even provided blankets and towels.  Not everyone arrives fully equipped.  I don’t mind as long as they don’t mind that what they might get isn’t brand new or all that terrific.

So, I dislike the word roommate even if it is the only word I’ve been able to come up with for the situation I offer.  The people I rent to aren’t my tenants because I pay the rent to a landlord.  They aren’t lodgers because this isn’t a hotel.  Besides that I refuse to be anyone’s concierge.   Still, the word roommate just doesn’t fit.

I’ll just have to keep thinking about it…

Now I face doing it all over again…

Today I’m going to use this scrumptious WordPress blog to try something a little different.  Before I advertise the room, probably on Craigslist, I’m going to create a Universal Statement of Intent, a cosmic plea if you will, in order to more clearly define who and what I want in a renter.  It will probably get to be a very long post but once I have it all spelled out then I’ll condense it so it can be used in an ad.

Legendarily diffident, stridently indifferent to all things but her own ideas, when the esteemed Cat does deign to bestow her warmth and affection upon those of us of the human ilk, she does so in utter and guileless sincerity. Despite her conceit, she knows not deceit, openly and honestly acknowledging all things worthy of her attention and ministrations. All others may take leave or endure as they may as she silently glides into her long and blissful daytime rest but be certain her bowls are sparkling clean and full before she embarks on her clandestine and nocturnal forays.

People would do well to follow the noble Cat’s stride. To esteem themselves more highly and know they truly have the right to be at home in the confusing world; to stand shoulder to shoulder with all others but be less concerned with standing head and shoulders above the rest. This, the head above, is the Cat’s milieu along with gracefully commandeering the best seat in the house to use as her personal nail file. Unless it’s the cherished four hundred dollar silk jacket which just cost you twenty to have dry cleaned. Seek her in such places for this is likely where she’ll be found, sprawled languidly upon your treasures and wherever she wishes to commission lush palanquins of her own configuration and discretion.

And never expect her to vie for your affection. Such a stupid notion! The Cat may demand her due, rightly or not, whether it’s her human’s adoring and well placed strokes or another small serving of fresh cream. She may do so when she pleases. Usually at three in the morning. There are rules which one must observe. Never forget the Cat is never to be ignored unless, of course, she’s at rest. She may choose to test your skills in a round of a raucous game devised by her exotic Egyptian forebears countless generations before. The one best known as “In Or Out, Kitty, Do Please Make Up My Mind!”. Only she knows the rules to this complex battle of wit and patience; only she may pronounce the winner. You have only to accept it will not be you and therefore senseless to question if you’ve been cheated.

The Cat is always to be forgiven all crime and sin, for such martyring notion such as punishment is never, never to be exacted. You may gently and politely extricate her from your favorite cashmere sweater then usher her back onto the silk jacket but at no time, for no reason is the Cat ever to be doled punitive measures. Certainly this is a crime against nature and sins only we bumbling mortals commit. She is to be admired, even respected for the havoc she may sometimes choose to wreak, the mayhem she may suddenly cause and solely because only she can.

If her cunning, even cruel and murderous ways should repulse you, leave quietly and leave her to her savagery. But should she choose to share her quarry with you, be gracious. Praise and thank her for her courage in ridding your dwelling of unwanted creatures. The only exception, the one and only time the praiseworthy and perfect Cat may be chastised, not punished, is if she should develop a penchant for birds. If she does, she must be curbed but only with great unction and tenderly. Profound and abject regret must be expressed with ceremonious prayers of penitence offered to the Great Creator. As you fasten the tiny bell to her collar weep, for your tears are appropriate, but remain resolute. Grieve until she decides to return to her home and you. She will. With indignity but without remorse, she will return home. And never forget that it’s only for her and her maker to understand why she, created so perfect in all ways, was not granted wings to fly.

It may serve you well to remember that, without coaxing or effort, the Cat can straightly ascend heights ten times her own or higher. Humans, less worthy, cannot ever compete. We sink to our knees, even fall on our asses.

The Cat always lights on her feet.

~ doggoddess

This, my wish to the world and to myself, on the day after Christmas.