Perth Stories - The Vacant House Story

In perfect irony, I left for Perth in an attempt to escape that hectic pace I'm steering my life towards and yet I found myself right back at where I started. Drinks? Check. Chilli mussels? Check. Hook ups? Check. Nearly shitting my pants? Check. Finding out a friend committed suicide? ...check...

I've decided that rather than I write in chronological order like I've done for all my holiday stories, I'm going to do this story based instead. Excuse the discordance in which I'm about to keep you leashed on, but I will tell you what you need to know and leave the rest for the memories.

THE VACANT HOUSE STORY

There are some things you know you shouldn't be doing but you'd make an exception for. Like jeering at the Special Olympics, adding ketchup to steak or having champagne with high heels. 'Breaking' into a vacant house is one of those you'd think twice when you're still baptised in sobriety. Two drinks in and you'd think bringing home the sofa is a decent a great idea.

Eugg: "Dude, my boss is out of town and I need to go over to feed the dog, but check this out.. She has the nicest house and an outdoor spa (jacuzzi). And I have the keys."

You'd know a winner when you hear one. This was like taking your prom date to the motel and they have you upgraded to the Elvis suite for free. I made a quick evaluation. Jaccuzi + drinks = a lot fun. And I'e never vomitted into a jaccuzi before, so this could be the perfect place to break my virginity. I thought for a split second, then replied in the only way I'm capable of.

Me: "LET'S GO!!!!"

Now, the plan was to keep this till the end of the night. Eugg would gather the troops, have all our essentials packed and I would contribute by keeping the toilet seat down.

Me: "So what dog does she own?"
Eugg: "I don't know, some stupid dog called Sam. How dumb is that!?"

I'll admit. I'm partially swayed by the dog. I love dogs. If I had my way, I'll have a husky licking me right now as I type this. This was going to the greatest night, ever.

Eugg's boss has a place at some upmarket district in Perth just overlooking Swan River. He affectionately refers to her as 'That Bitch". Apparently, she's out for the weekend on a trip down to Margaret river, so the place will be vacant from Friday through to Sunday. As Eugg tells me, he was made the reluctant housekeeper on basis of the proximity from his place to hers.

Eugg: "Dude, this place has the most high tech shit. The place is DAMN nice."
Me: "We are so going.."
Eugg: "I just hope she doesn't have surveillence cameras."
Me: "What?!"

He goes on to tell me about how he probed about the security codes and alarm and was assured that the premise's alarm had already been disarmed. He runs me through the risk assessment and all I was thinking of was the outdoor pool and drinking half naked in it.

We had dinner at some executive crowd Belgian Beer Cafe which served the most overated crap excuse of an Italian affair I've ever tasted. I could have chewed on raw linguines with chilli paste and I'd have probably digested better and complained less over.

Naturally we salvaged the night by heading over to one of his friend's place for BBQ. Having kangeroo meat and watching Tristan and Isolde is probably the best way to spend an evening in Perth, but I still had Singaporean blood coursing through my veins and I had a objective that needed attention. The vacant house.

On pretext of having to feed the dogs, Eugg secretly shared the vacant house details to couple of his friends. I knew where he was coming from. As much as I'd have loved it for everyone at the BBQ to have joined us, a crowd of that size would only get me inside an Aussie lock up faster that I can spell "Marijuana". As Eugg reminds me, we're technically breaking an entry not organising a house party.

Two things I failed to calculate while conjurring my uptopian night of a pool party.

One. It was winter in Perth. It was 6 degrees, my fingers were threatening to fall off and I would kill anyone who tried to take my sweater. Pool party? Not even if the pool was heated. I was so cold at one point (partly cos I went under-prepared on warm clothing), I was pretty sure my nipples would drop off if I ever took off my shirt.

Two. The dog.

When Eugg said he didn't know what breed the dog was, I assumed it was one of those toy dogs like Malteses or Suki Terriers. That would have explained the insignificance of getting the breed right since Eugg wasn't much of a dog person, every small sized dog would have been the same to him.

I was VERY wrong.

We snuck in at midnight, lined up in a file to walk down from the side gate to the house. I was the last person in and I remembered turning back to ensure the gate was properly closed. Five steps from the gate, I heard the clicking sound of bare toenails scratching against the floor.

I make a quick assessment. The dog is awake. He is running and he obviously doesn't sound very small. I turned to see the shadow of Sam (the dog, in case you forgot) standing by the garage door. It was big, it was black and it was a FUCKING Rotweller.

I will not elaborate on that breed, but if you know your dog alphabets, you'd know that Rotwellers also come with captions that say"aggressive", "unpredictable" and "guard-dogs". Sam is staring right at me and I am about to pee my pants.

Sam starts running towards me. At this point of time, I am only thinking of two things. If I've had enough clothing on to withstand an attack and shitting my pants. I've been attacked by a dog before and I absolutely rememeber the trauma of it. I was 8 and that dog was a pathetic mongrel. I'm 26 now, alot richer than I was and fucking alot more girls than I was at 8 and this was a Rotweller. I have so much to live for.. I do not want to die.

I am shit stiffed frozen with fear. I love dogs but watching a 50 pound aggressor charging towards you was a whole new dimension. 3 metres from me and still grunting, I was absolutely sure he was going to kill me. Then he went right for me.. and sniffed my crotch.
You cannot imagine how relieved I was that even having my crotch sniffed by a dog was good enough to be the highlight of my trip.

Me: "Fuck Eugg, do you even know what breed is this dog?"
Eugg: "Erm nope.. why?"
Me: "This is a Rotweller. They are fucking guard dogs. I thought when you said stupid dog, you meant small dogs..."

The house was cool. Nothing spectacular but I guess mediocracy in Perth is widely regarded as an achievement. The wierdest thing about the whole thing was how guilt was seriously disturbing our minds. For some reason, EVERYONE felt the need to whisper. All this despite the absence of a security camera and NO one else in the house but us. If this was my place, I'd be watching TV naked.

Eugg: *whispers* "This place is nice yea?"
Me: *whispers* "Why the fuck are we whispering?"

We eventually had a 'mild' session the next night, but nothing is more exciting or interesting to write about that beats having your crotch sniffed by a Rotweller.