The Pit Bull and the Screen Door

One of our most reliable tenants showed up with a pit bull.  We actually saw the dog about two months ago and told him the dog had to go. No Pit Bulls.  Well, that fell on deaf ears!  But bless our dear property manager's heart!  She confronted him when he paid the rent on Feb 1. 

He said if the dog goes, he goes.  She said, "don't let the door hit you on the way out."  I love it!  Then she sent a follow up letter confirming his intent to vacate before March 1.  YEA!  Although I'm sad to lose a steady tenant, the other tenants were complaining and it's all good.

Also, our dear property manager has worked miracles!  Remember our dear Courtney?  Rubber bands in the drain? Tub wouldn't drain because the lever was down? Two big dogs?  Jana found them a new place to move effective April first.  Meanwhile, they got ride of the nasty dog, took down all the signs and paraphenelia that screamed "Beware of Dog."   She's a miracle worker.

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

If you give a mouse a cookie, the story goes, he will ask for a glass of milk.  If you allow a tenant one small, 10# dog, he will bring in a 40# dog, and then two.  It's true. 

In August, when Courtney signed the lease, she told the property manager she had a dog.  A small one.  We soon discovered it was a 40# black lab mix dog that BARKS!  Now we find Courtney has two dogs that bark in stereo.  We've actually known it for a month or so, but we haven't done anything proactive about it yet. 

Flash forward to today.  Chris, my son, was at the 4-plex painting one of the vacant units.  Courtney, who has been spying on Chris between the slats of the blinds for two days ran outside to tell him "you're going to have to replace the carpet, you know, because of the dog." 

He proceeded to tell her tenants were allowed one small, 10# dog and not two large dogs.  And if the carpets were damaged and needed to be replaced it would come out of her deposits.  "Oh no," she said, "I mean in this vacant unit.  Inez had a dog."  

A.  Inez did, in fact, have a dog.  For two months she had the tiniest chihuahua you ever saw. 
B.  There was very little 'evidence' left behind in her apartment.
C.  Where the heck does she come off "ratting out" Inez, when she has two dogs the size of Manhattan?

Chris called to tell me the story - and we chuckled.  But the big laugh came an hour later when the property manager emailed to tell me that Courtney called to say, "We had to get a (second) male dog because one of my husband's friends said he was going to come have sex with me."  (Cue to barf here. This is not a pretty picture)

The saga will continue tomorrow when the property manager and I confront Courtney.

You couldn't make this stuff up!

A story of two phone calls (okay, three phone calls)

Last month Courtney called to say her bathtub was clogged.  Friday she called again; the bathtub is clogged.  She tells me that the last time the plumber dug out a bunch of rubber bands.   WHAT?  I'm thinking that's not my problem - but it is. 

Diego and I were right in the middle of pulling wire for new outlets at my mom's house and really didn't want to drop everything go clear out her drain.  So I asked our wonderful property manager to call a plumber.  It will probably result in a $100 after-hours call (New Year's Eve and they'd already gone home).   Plus, if it turns out to be clogged with their own stuff (rubberbands??), then the property manager will bill them for the call. 

Then, today I had two voice mails from Courtney.  The first said that the power was out in the building but they had called Excel.  The secon call said that the power was back on.  Now those are the kind of calls I don't mind getting on a Sunday morning.