I was driving home from my grandparents' house on Friday when a little white dog ran in front of my car. I almost hit it, but Dottie was hanging out the car window in my lap, and the dog stopped, intrigued.
I didn't recognize the dog, so I got out to take a look at it's collar. I was only a block from home, so I figured I could return it to a neighbor. I looked, no collar. I petted the dog, and tried to shoo it out of the middle of the street as a big red truck came driving up.
"Is this your dog?" I asked.
"No, but is that your house for sale down the street?" the man driving the truck asks.
"Yes."
Out of the truck pops an excited 23 year old girl wearing a UNI t-shirt.
"I'm buying your house!" she announces.
She had been driving by showing her new house to her family. We proceed to talk more about the house, my neighbors, and her situation. I come to find out she walked through it the first day it was on the market, fell in love, came back the next day, and had just made an offer.
My dad advises me to keep the emotion out of business, but I could not be more thrilled to sell my house to this girl. She reminds me so much of myself 3 years ago looking for my first house. Yah, sure, the house is a little more move-in ready than it was when I found it, but I swear we share the same excitement.
(This is what the house looked like on Christmas Eve when I found it 3 years ago...)
There's something special about buying your first house, and I'm so glad that the person moving in will love it just as much as I have.
Oh, and the dog? I never saw what happened to it. No one saw it run off, but I'm sure it found it's way home.
