I am a responsible, nice, employed, college educated, good credit history having, non-smoking, married, good cooking, good housekeeping, relatively good singing, cheerful, unsmelly, considerate apartment dweller.
I also own a small dog.
Yes, a dog. And so now…when my rent is up in April…I’m fucked. My husband and I are simply fucked in trying to find an apartment in Evanston that allows dogs.
Do you allow small dogs?
OH NO! NEVER!! DOGS? HOW DARE YOU. NONONONOnononoNOnoono.
Interestingly, cats, who SHIT IN THE HOUSE ON A DAILY BASIS and claw furniture (I know, I had two) are welcomed with open arms almost everywhere. But I guess dogs will cause the very foundations of the building to tremble.
My sweet little beagle, six years old, quiet, housebroken, used to apartments, used to stairs and people, with well clipped nails that won’t scratch the floor and well groomed coat that won’t shed…is being judged! Prejudged! They won’t even meet her! I just want to live in Evanston, next to the purple line, and have my sweet little pup. Is it too much to ask?
And as a side note…Chicago Reader, you have sections in your apartment listings for One Bedroom, Two Bedroom, Three…blah blah, why not a separate listing area for “DOG FRIENDLY APARTMENTS” It would help immensely.
There. It’s out of my system. I think I’ll go back to work.