Some weeks back, I was upstairs working at my desk when the doorbell rang.
I had a sense it would, given that Oli was already bounding down the stairs, barking his little fool head off. When he gets like it means he’s heard the minute squeak of the little wrought iron gate in front of our house. In his dopey dog world this can only mean two things: evil postal workers and handbill deliverers are stuffing our mail slot with their wares, or the doorbell is about to be rung.
Either way, it’s his duty to protect us from what lurks on the other side of the massive oak door. Or so he thinks – both about it being his responsibility and about his actual ability to keep us safe. Watch dog? Yes. Fierce fighting beast? Eh, not so much. All bark and no bite.
By the time I reached the front entry he’d worked himself into a total frenzy, his compact body making desperate circles in the tight space, all while trying to bark and growl simultaneously. It ends up looking more like an epileptic fit than the machinations of a trained canine killer, but don’t tell him that.
As I pulled the heavy door inward, Oli stopped in his tracks: there stood Catarina and her friend Anja. Recognizing his favorite friend, he ceased barking and proceeded to greet her with boundless enthusiasm, a wagging tail and a wet tongue. Licking their fingers gets the girls every time, that Lothario.
Now for those who have followed the Catarina Chronicles over the past few years, you know that any time I encounter my creative, sly, entrepreneurial nine-year-old Dutch neighbor on the doorstep I’m likely to be tasked with something.
Usually it’s turning my Albert Heijn grocery receipts in for whatever voetbal kaartjes or children’s toy they happen to be giving away. [Want to know precisely what I’m dealing with? Then do check out this Catarina trio: An International Trade Rep’s Got Nothing on Her, Head of Delegation Written All Over Her and She’s Baaack.]
I already was collecting the miniature grocery store products of the current AH campaign, stuffing little packets containing plastic fruits and vegetables, teeny boxes of cereal and miniscule cartons of milk and yogurt drink through the brievenbus (mail slot) per her strict instructions. Surely she wasn’t here to complain about my prompt service?
A torrent of Dutch words cascaded out of Catarina’s mouth. Anja stood behind her with eyes wide in anticipation, nodding her head in agreement. When Catarina had finished, they both looked up at me expectantly.
I was able to pick out geld, hondje, Oli (pronounced with a long O rather than the Ah-ly we use), wandeling and in de buurt when it clicked: the girls wanted to earn a little spending money by taking Oli for a walk around the neighborhood.
In light of our previous adventures, I capitulated immediately.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived back with a deliriously happy Oli in tow. Without thinking it through – always a mistake with Catarina – I gave each girl a Euro and sent them on their way.
The next day the doorbell rang.
I should have seen it coming but didn’t. There on my doorstep stood the ever-enterprising Catalina, big smile plastered on her angelic face.
‘Zal ik Oli voor een wandeling nemen?’
It is only then I realized I’d paid such a lucrative fee the day before that Catarina had immediately seized on this money-making scheme. By my calculations we’d be in financial ruins within a couple weeks if we kept this up, while my little capitalist padded her dog-walking retirement plan. Lord knows whatever happened to Anja, obviously cut out of any future action.
Surely I nipped this foolishness in the bud, right then and there.
Well, sort of.
Let’s just say I had a little chat with Catarina about only walking Oli on the weekends, and once per weekend at that. Same pay, one Euro, but not the two I’d given her and Anja.
Catarina isn’t the only one who knows how to play hardball in de buurt.
What a wonderful young neighbour you have. When you mention how she pronounces Oli’s name I had an image of a walking Oliebol. That has made me hanker after some – preferably hot from the kiosk.
Thanks Ersatz. Would you believe I didn’t have an oliebol this winter? And we have an Oliebollen stall just two blocks away!
Poor Anja. Cut out of the deal, scuppered by her co-worker, ignored and neglected. So young in life to be experiencing the harsh corporate realities of working life. I hope she learns how to play a little hardball after this early experience at the hands of the ever-enterprising Catarina!
They’re still friends, I see them out and about together. I guess Anja has chosen to learn from a pro!
I just had to see the name Catarina in the title to have me instantly clicking over to see what she was up to this time.. She, like A.I.E.L., never disappoints.
Thank you Rachel, she is a lot of fun. Every encounter is pure gold.
Love your Catarina stories. Keep ’em coming. 🙂
Thanks Judy, as long as I have Catarina encounters, I’ll share them.
An enterprising young lady!
And really a sweet little girl, Emma. She really cracks me up.
Hi Linda,
What a cute story! Kids are kids the world over, aren’t they? The beguiling smile but the little gears working away inside their little brains. One day while I was visiting a Thai girlfriend, her grandson was playing with my motorbike keys while sitting on my lap (he’s not even two yet). He shimmied off my lap and proceeded to my bike, stood on the little platform where I put my feet and attempted to insert the key. He was within arm’s reach so I wasn’t too worried. I said his name and he turned to me with a cheeky grin. His grandmother told me he just wanted to go for a ride. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the 5-person on a motorbike lesson that that typical Thai family has so I said he’d have to wait for his father! It didn’t phase him… he just toddled after the gekko he had scared off the bike seat. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before he’s developing an enterprise of some sort just like Catarina 🙂
Ah, a Thai version of the Catarina Chronicles – looking forward to it Anne!