Stop stomping on my fluffy pink clouds of happiness

I have been having a merry time floating along on fluffy pink clouds of happiness. I don't have to think about work, or having to achieve anything much more than waking up sometime through the day and feeding myself. After the turmoil of the last few days, it is bliss.

That is, until the real estate agent in Gove decides they want to come stomping into my happy pink cloud and ruin everything. I keep getting random calls, "courtesy calls" as they like to call them (more like "bloody-stupid-notices-of-impending-invasion-of-privacy calls") stating they just need to: 1) pop by to see what sort of condition the unit is in; 2) pop by to check on the air conditioning unit; 3) pop by to have this months staff party since we know you are out of town and your flat is still furnished.

There is no point in telling them not to. They cheerily respond that they don't mind and they have a key and can let themselves in. I have told them in the past that I have a vicious dog that will bite their leg off and beat them with it if they try to enter my home while I am not there- and that slowed down the cheery courtesy calls telling me they are letting themselves into the unit (while hearing in the background the turning of a key in the lock and the characteristic squeek of my front door).

Now they know Jack isn't there (and ignoring the fact he generally hides behind the couch and lets me deal with any newcomers to the unit- tough guard dog eh?), they are brimming over with enthusiasm to wander in and out of my home whenever they are in the neighbourhood. I think I will have to remind them of a little thing called the Residential Tenancies Act. Stupid real estate agents!