Pets Win Evictions

I don’t have a pet at the moment. Don’t get me wrong - I love animals, which is why I avoid them. I once bought a goldfish, and it lasted two hours (do you think I should have put some water in the bowl?) And so for me, renting is the best excuse not to have a pet (FYI – I’d love to own one of those miniature horses.)

Others are less considerate. People who live in flats exhibit a disturbing tendency to own creatures known as ‘house cats.’ To me this seems cruel: cats should be out stalking mice and fighting urban foxes, not sitting on a sofa eating custard creams and watching Loose Women.

The main problem however is that many landlords don’t allow pets of any kind which (here we go again) is different to the attitude of our wiser cousins on the continent, who allow tenants to treat their rented property like a home, part of which is owning a pet. I can understand that a rambling, shambling shared house with revolving doors and many occupants, each with a dog, would be un-manageable, but even in family homes, pets are forbidden.

But still people answer the call of the wild by buying a Chihuahua. In a shared student house, one, determined fellow tenant acquired an ‘illegal’ cat (pets were banned.) It had a habit of strolling in, bold as you like whenever the landlord came to visit, obliging us all to act outraged while claiming it belonged to a neighbour.

This worked well, until another housemate bought some zebra finches. It was like the circle of life: the devious cat managed to open the cage door, and devoured the little birds. Thing is we were all simultaneously horrified and grateful – those birdies made a vile squeaking noise, or else they squawked with fear.

The alternative, I suppose, is one of those nasty little dogs that live in a handbag and look like a furry pencil case, or more worryingly perhaps, resemble one of those humorous posing pouches I’ve been told about. But what is the ideal pet for a tenant? Gerbils? They are neurotic and they smell. Tortoises are banned as pets, and anyway – what’s the point – it’s like a matchbox toy with no wheels on, and they are dreadful at small-talk.

What harm can pets do – if looked after properly, they don’t make a mess (most animals are cleaner than many first year students, and I’ve been one) and if they scratch (puppies use doors as chewy toys) then the tenant can buy another door, or repair it.

Mostly I think it’s unfair to imprison animals in a flat – they all need space to roam, and dogs need a park to gad about in. Other than that, lizards and snakes should be banned due to being creepy, and because they eat rats. A friend once viewed a flat where the potential co-tenant introduced her to their pet tarantula. The ensuing screams curdled milk in the next town.

Who Ya Gonna Call?

Strange days indeed. The sun’s turned blue, and in Norfolk, a three headed cow was born. Also: our busy politicians have condescended to (half-heartedly) spend some time discussing private rented housing.

Forgive me for not floating on a lilac cloud of joy, but I don’t believe anything will change. The current situation is labyrinthine and chaotic. We need a powerful agency to monitor and regulate renting, while standing up for tenants. Until then, in order of effectiveness, here’s who you can call now, for all the good it will do:

The landlord? Fine unless the problem is the landlord themselves (which it generally is.) Don’t worry if they’re based abroad - they’ll fly over on their private jet and fix the toilet themselves, pronto. Alternatively, they could ignore you, or commence possession proceedings immediately. Either, really.

The local council? Councils can refuse HMO licences and take action if property is unsafe. First they’ll say: “….keep a diary.” I wonder if this ever leads to housing officers confronted by the following:

“Day begins, as ever with a crafty Jodrell, but still the world seems dark, so very dark (dark!) Nobody understands me (except maybe The Smiths) so I’m running away from home.”
You’re supposed to be recording the misdemeanours of crooked proprietors, like leaking pipes, lack of HMO licences, dangerous appliances, and nefarious neighbourly fly-tipping and drug farms. But thanks for sharing.

Rent officers? In the old days, tenants could ask for a ruling on what was a fair rent. Such a lovely idea. Nowadays they spend their days finding the cheapest rent in any area in order to keep Local Housing Allowance at a permanent low, and they are mighty good at this.

The National Federation of Builders? Royal Institute Of British Architects? Planners? “Hello! This buy-to-let newbuild dovecot I am renting is crap. Please send round a squad to rebuild it and remodel the interior, at no extra cost.” Oh, wouldn’t it be nice…

The police? Horses for courses, obviously; don’t alert the persons in blue if your roof is leaking. They don’t care (and why should they?) The police are the bouncers, the door security-staff of the legal world. They don’t know the rules, they just do the arresting. So even if you are being threatened/harassed by neighbours and landlords, don’t expect too much.

Your spiritual advisor? By your side for all the unpleasant things in life, like exorcisms, funerals and weddings, or worse – when you finally go postal and kill your flatmates/landlord/letting agent. (NB – the last one? Don’t. It. Would. Be. Wrong.)

Relate? There should be some sort of support-group or mediation-service for house-sharers. The low number of flatmate-on-flatmate murder leads me to conclude that humanity is less warlike than previously feared. Isn’t that nice?

Random people on the streets? It doesn’t work. They look at you funny, and afterwards they run away. I know this.

The letting agent? Oh, perrr-leez… No; wait a minute - let’s have ourselves some fun. You could complain, for a laugh, and play letting-agent-repair-response-bingo, where you tick off their most inventive evasion. Big boys did it and ran away? The dog ate the deposit? Ask the landlord? And around we go…