I am in the midst of apartment hunting, which is always a pain. My search criteria includes “not the trendy area with lots of yuppie jerkoffs,” “not the trendy area with lots of pretentious artsy types,” and “not the ghetto.” My task is even more difficult because of my dog, Ike. I have to find apartments which will let me have a 50 pound dog live there. Before I bother to go look at a place, I call first to make sure they allow pets, and allow pets of Ike’s carriage. I found one such place today, but the lady informed me that no 1st floor units were available, and that Ike was too big to live on the second floor. “I’m sorry, we only allow pets under 35 pounds in second and third floor apartments,” she told me. I asked why.
“Dogs over 35 pounds are too noisy to live above someone, so we limit them to the ground floor.” She sounded slightly irritated.
“I understand that,” I said. “But let me ask you this: I weigh 220 pounds, and if I didn’t have a dog, I could rent any unit you have, right?”
“Um…well, yes…I don’t understand where you are going with this…”
“You said that a dog over 35 pounds is too noisy to live above someone, so they have to stay on the ground floor. Well, I weigh four times what my dog weighs, and I could clomp and stomp around all day and it would be fine, correct? Which is noisier, me or my dog?”
“Uh…I guess you are…I never really thought about it like that. I guess it’s a valid point.”
“Okay then…so can I come look at the second floor apartment?”
“No, like I said, your dog is too heavy, and that’s the policy. And from what I am gathering, I’m not sure we would want you living on the second floor either,”
