I’ve rented apartments. I’ve lived in a basement apartment and a main floor apartment. I lived in university residence for a year – probably the closest I’ve gotten to an apartment building. I’ve shared a room with one girl… and with three girls. Pre-dog.
When some friends went out of town for two weeks, they handed me the keys to their eleventh storey apartment and permission to bring the dog. A perfect test of how Gwynn would do in my theoretical near-future move to an apartment or condo.
I am in bridge engineering. My brain says the balcony is safe, in that it is lacking in signs that might indicate its imminent failure. Gwynn and I agree that, regardless of its so-called safety, if one must go out on the balcony, the best place to be is plastered up against the building. I love their view, but frankly, my future abode will need to be closer to the ground.
At home, Gwynn isn’t concerned about noises outside his lign of sight. At the apartment, between the hours of 10pm and 7am… he was on high-alert. Any suggestions to get Gwynn to stop barking at every twinge of noise from outside the apartment would be appreciated.
Their apartment was heated through in-floor heating. I can imagine it would be wonderful when it’s quite chilly out. Despite being shut off, though, it was warm. Melt-chocolate-warm. I kept all the windows open (contributing to dog-barkiness, unfortunately), and a fan going at all times that I was in the apartment, just to keep the temperature tolerable.
Having to get into an elevator, go down 11 storeys and out of a building every time he has to go to the washroom SUCKS. I had him outside every 1-2 hours until 10pm, just to be on the safe side. He took advantage – giving me that ‘I gotta go SO BADLY’ look from the apartment door far more regularly than he actually… had-ta go. This is not my favourite thing. I really REALLY like having the option of just letting Gwynn go out in the back yard for a quick pee or sniff whenever he feels so inclined.
I’m not sure if it was just this particular building, but in two weeks, we met a broad assortment of dogs – one of which was friendly. One. The others were stressed-freaking-out-barking-lunging-hackles-up any time we ran into them. What is up with that?
Having seen a wide variety of dog in the building – from tiny purse-type through to bigger-than-Gwynn – the elevator conversations I had were baffling. I had this conversation at least 10 times over the course of 2 weeks:
Random Elevator Rider: “That’s a big dog.”
Lexy (it would be rude to disagree, I guess?): “… yup.”
RER: “Is it going to get bigger?”
Lexy (visualizing Gwynn as an orange newfie.) : “Probably not?”
Washing dishes by hand: better in a building (with a sink and taps) than at a campground. Still not very fun.
Apartment laundry facilities – empty… at least at 8am on Thanksgiving Monday.
Cooking for myself: I still really enjoy cooking. Nice to know. Living at home, my family apparently believes that I have zero ability in the kitchen. Away from home, I can try whatever recipe strikes my fancy… or have peanut butter and toast.
Overall, I think Gwynn and I are destined to rent/buy a main-floor unit, or closer to the ground, anyways. Considering that housing-prices in the GTA (and, more importantly, within an hour or so of drive to my office) are bizarre and terrible right now, a condo or apartment is really my only hope of leaving home in the near future. It’s nice to know that Gwynn and I can live in an apartment without too huge an adjustment process.