The other agent emailed at 9pm. Night before the open house. "Just a heads up, sellers will be home during showing, they have a large dog who is friendly." Friendly. Sure. Get there Sunday at noon, sellers are still eating breakfast in the kitchen. Not like finishing up. Like they just sat down. Bacon on the stove. The dog is not large, the dog is massive, some kind of mastiff mix, and it's standing in the doorway of the primary bedroom just staring at anyone who tries to go in. Not growling. Just blocking. Had to ask visitors to skip that room. Skip the primary bedroom. At an open house. One couple shows up, seems interested, starts asking about the furnace. The seller — who is still there, remember — walks over and says actually they've been having some issues with it lately. Just volunteers this. While I'm standing right there. Then goes into detail about how the basement floods "maybe once a year, twice tops." The dog ate someone's scarf. Just took it right off a chair and started chewing. The woman was upset, it was cashmere apparently, she kept saying it cost her 200 dollars. The sellers offered her a piece of bacon. Nobody put in an offer. The listing agent asked me why foot traffic didn't convert. I said maybe try kenneling the dog next time and she said the sellers feel strongly that he's part of the home's character. He weighs more than me. That's the character.