“So these river condos you mentioned,” Michelle kidded, “how do I know there aren’t any rats?”
Now it often happens that creatures and plants lose habitat as developments appear. Their apparent reward for so co-operatively vacating their homes comes in the form of naming rights; hence Pheasant Run, Beaver Lodge, Gooseberry Gate, Dahlia Dell, and so on, as he pointed out.
“At my house, and this is in the leafy, near north shore on a residential block, mind you, we have deer, opossum, coyotes, voles and mice, plus the occasional wandering skunk. Brigades of starlings sweep from yard to yard and set off the dogs. Ducks waddle the lawns in spring; a scourge of geese coat the parks in poop come spring, come fall. We even boast a local falcon, and sometimes glimpse the eagles soaring over the lake bluffs. Squirrels and chipmunks visit daily. Rabbits are the worst. One died under our front porch last year. We couldn’t sit out for a week. And last summer I took up a new hobby. Every morning I went out hunting the voracious rose-ruining Japanese beetle. According to the witness of regular early walkers, I cut quite a figure in my straw hat and robe, armed with my stick and drowning bucket. Not a sight common in downtown condos where higher standards prevail; you would not be caught dead out chasing rats I’m sure, especially so early and so minimally dressed.”
Warming to his theme, and uninterrupted by either the he-Shell or the she-Shell who were silent in rapt disgust, he reasoned, “So if you live near a river, I suppose there might be river rats. But you likely might not see them. They would remain like Ratty, the “Wind in the Willows” rat, unseen and simply “messing about in boats”. It was only Toad, of dubious character, who messed with humans. Do you mind toads terribly?”
“Seriously, have you ever seen a rat?” she giggled.
“I cannot tell a lie. I have seen a rat, and you might too, if you live near the river.”
“So I’m sitting on my balcony, and I see rats swimming or, as you suggest, rowing by underneath?” she persisted.
“As long as we’re not swimming or boating with them, I guess it’s alright.” considered the he-Shell.
“Think of it like this,” R.M. interposed, “it’s the urban experience. When you live in a condo with an attached garage, as opposed to a single family house, it’s as though it never snows for you. Not so’s you have to deal with it or clear it. It’s only happening outside and you are mainly always inside. Same with the local wildlife. And to date, nobody has named a condominium the “River Residences at Rat Point.” If there really ever was a problem, it would be most likely be disclosed in the property condition report.”
“The what?” came from the back seat.
He explained, “In short, it’s a document that a seller fills out and signs stating awareness of any defect that, if not corrected, would shorten the life expectancy of the property, pose a health or safety concern, or reduce the value of the property. When you get that far along, you will see it during the offer process.”
“So you don’t live in a condo yourself then…you mentioned your house? Why don’t you live in a condo?”
“I’m just a farm boy from north Wisconsin. I grew up in a farm town and worked for farmers as a youth.”
“So you pitched hay and plowed fields…that kind of farming?”
“That was me. And I still like being outside.”
“Do you have many farmer customers for condos?” Shel wondered. “I’ve never had a farmer for a neighbor.”
“Well, there was one man who admitted to a previous life as a farmer in Kentucky but he was the only one that I know of. And he didn’t say much. I’ve found that sometimes it’s best not to inquire. The Gold Coast is just ahead; Prospect Avenue, home of the high-rise.”
Turning onto Prospect Ave. and drawing up to a stoplight, R.M. rolled down the window and hallooed to a uniformed man walking a pink-beribboned Sheltie. To Michelle he quipped, “Looks like you have company over there…that female Sheltie…another she-Shell”. The Sheltie’s co-ordinating neon collar, leash, and pooper-scooper did nothing to lessen the dignity of the man walking her. The concierge at one of the nearby buildings, he sported the shiniest buttons R.M. had ever seen outside of the military.
“Bonjour Gervase. Fine day for a walk.”
“Cheers R.M.” he grinned, and to the passengers inside the car, “Taking the famous tour? Excellent!”
The light now green and parting waves exchanged, R.M. smiled, “Gervase Richard, French Canadian import and concierge extraordinaire, walking a resident’s dog. He gets high marks for all the service he gives to a grateful association – his building is just over there.” Driving north on Prospect, as they left the Gold Coast and turned west onto North Avenue, R.M. continued the guided tour.
“North Avenue is an east-west street that marks the northern edge of downtown on your map there. To the north of here is the Upper East Side. There are many condos here as well, with a mix again of new construction and conversions, with apartment style and townhouses. This is the northern limit of the condo high-rises.”
“Are you readers?” he queried. “Just there is the East branch of the public library system. This is the only branch within the downtown map other than the Central branch right downtown. I’ve had buyers before who wanted to be able to walk to a local branch, so I mention it.”
“Coming up is the North Avenue bridge. You can get a good view of the river valley to the north and south. To the south you can see where it bends into Caesar’s Pool. We’ll be over that way in a few minutes. And to the north, and on the west side of the river, is an area called Riverwest. There are some condos here, once again an eclectic mix. We’ll be turning south soon and going back into the downtown neighborhoods again.”
“Generally speaking, the farther you go outside this downtown map the more you get for your dollar in terms of unit size, referred to as the square foot price. Compare that price to the added value of amenities included in a unit or development. For some buyers quality and size trumps location. Others want to live in a specific neighborhood and being there matters more to them than unit size or quality. One of the reasons I offer this tour is so buyers can begin to get a sense of where they might end up in this equation.”
As they crossed the bridge he heard the question, “Suppose we got a terrier, Shell? That would take care of any rats.”