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Fido Is Meeting the Co-op Board, and Learning to Beg
By TRACIE ROZHON
When certain applicants arrive at Manhattan apartment
buildings for their co-op board interviews these days, they are
not treated like the run-of-the-mill supplicant. No hurried pass-around
of the hors d'oeuvres tray. No embarrassing questions about old
credit card problems. And only rarely does anyone shake their
hand.
But that doesn't mean they don't have to jump through hoops.
''It's down to the lobby for Fido,'' said Dr. Susan Freeman,
a psychologist who heads the canine interview committee at 200
East 74th Street. ''We want to make sure they'll sit on command
for the doorman. Then perhaps we'll have them interact with another
dog, just to see how they handle it.'' She brings her terrier,
Ollie, down for the test.
The days of whines and noses may be running out for dog owners
hoping to buy a co-op apartment. After decades of more
or less benign acceptance, an increasing number of buildings are
changing their rules to no pets at all, and particularly to no
dogs. Even condominiums, long the bastion of look-the-other-way
boards, have tightened up their pet policies. And many buildings
that once allowed dogs as a matter of course, like 200 East 74th
Street, now require an audition first.
Boards started cracking down several years ago by requiring owners
to ride with their pets in freight elevators and to submit copies
of dog licenses. Sometimes photographs were requested. But until
recently, real estate agents say, buildings did not demand actual
interviews. Eight months ago, the board changed the policy at
Ms. Freeman's building ''because photographs can lie,'' she said.
Interviews can be traumatic. Dog groomers are routinely called
in for Fifi's last-minute comb-out, and an occasional Valium has
been popped -- by owners and canines alike. Boards are even requiring
applications for pets that document lineage and schooling.
''We're just doing a board package,'' said Sara Settembrini, an
agent with the Corcoran Group, a Manhattan real estate firm, speaking
of one client. ''And we're enclosing pictures of both dogs, with
little kerchiefs around their necks, along with their bios.''
Bios? ''Oh, you know, how old they are, how they were trained,
who trained them,'' Ms. Settembrini replied, adding that this
was something she had never had to do in the past.
In this white-hot market, where there are often three or four
bidders on any apartment, many boards say they can afford
to be as tough as they want to be -- and they want to be very,
very choosy.
''We don't want to be tyrants,'' said Andrew Kissel, board treasurer
at 200 East 74th Street and the proud owner of Bellini, a Maltese.
''But this is your worst fear: you get somebody in the building
and their dog turns out to be a nightmare. We had one guy who
was an original tenant. He had five Bernese mountain dogs. After
they rode in the elevator, the staff had to fumigate it. It was
just horrible.''
Dozens of buildings now hold dog interviews, said Bobbi Gitter,
an agent with Charles H. Greenthal. ''They want a certain size,
a certain breed,'' she said. ''It's getting out of hand.''
At the Brevard, a co-op at 245 East 54th Street, where dogs up
to 30 pounds were welcomed for years, the limit was lowered to
15 pounds, which might suit a pug or a Pekingese, but not a wire-haired
terrier.
While no one knows the exact number of buildings that are tightening
their rules, Greg Carlson, president of the Federation of New
York Housing Cooperatives, estimated that it doubled in
the last year. ''If it was 10 percent before, it's 20 percent
now,'' he said.
In addition to noise and mess, boards cite the growing number
of animals in apartments. Many real estate agents said that especially
in neighborhoods like Carnegie Hill and TriBeCa, co-op applicants
are getting younger -- many earning lots of Wall Street money,
of course -- and younger families tend to have younger children.
And younger children have dogs. ''This building used to be a building
with many more older people,'' Mr. Kissel said.
But man's (or child's) best friend may not be the neighbor's.
At Dr. Freeman's building, one dog knocked somebody down in the
passenger elevator. The same dog, whose name was withheld in the
spirit of co-op amiability, nipped another shareholder, but didn't
draw blood. ''You get one free bite,'' Dr. Freeman said. ''Then
you're held responsible.'' The board ordered the owner to provide
training; the dog has been on its best behavior ever since.
Darryl Vernon, a real estate lawyer who specializes in defending
pets, said that hundreds of complaints had been lodged against
dog owners by co-op boards and landlords in Manhattan who are
trying to evict dogs -- and often, their owners. In the last year
he has handled dozens of disputes with boards, many about barking.
He says he wins most of his cases.
Joel Zand, a real estate lawyer who has represented about 20 dog
owners feuding with their co-ops, said that many ended with an
''amicable resolution: the dog goes into a probationary period.''
Often, as a settlement, the dog heads off to training -- or day
care.
Stuart M. Saft, chairman of the Council of New York Cooperatives
and Condominiums, cited two recent proxy fights waged by pro-dog
forces to unseat restrictive boards -- fights that were lost.
Diane Ramirez, president of the Halstead Property Company, said
she understood the urge to restrict, although it makes her job
a lot harder. There are now fewer apartments for pet owners to
choose.
''Dogs soil the carpet in the elevator -- their owners are always
sneaking them into the passenger elevator,'' she said. ''They
sniff where you don't want them to sniff. You don't know if they'll
freak out. And if you have a child, it might nip their face.''
Surprisingly, the fancier the apartment house, the more
chance there is that your dog (at least) will be accepted.
''Take River House or the Dakota,'' said Joyce West, sales director
at Greenthal, mentioning two candidates for anybody's Top 10 list
of luxurious places to live. ''Dogs just get lost in those apartments,
and the walls are thick, anyway -- and there's also staff to make
sure they don't bark.''
Shaggy dog stories abound. ''One couple had a big dog that had
to be interviewed -- a large, rambunctious, jumping dog,'' said
Southerlyn Marino, a spokeswoman at the Corcoran Group. ''So they
gave the dog some mild tranquilizers, and he was just fine. The
couple was accepted, and the dog was especially praised for being
so docile.''
Another couple, fretting that their rather yappy dachshund would
wreck their chance to buy a $400,000 TriBeCa loft, pulled a bait-and-switch:
after the closing, the couple confessed to their broker that they
had substituted another dog at the interview: its better behaved
sister.
To advocates of dogs' rights, these strategies -- by dog owner
and board member -- strike a jarring note.
''If your daughter doesn't have to sit for the doorman, why does
your dog?'' asked Ingrid Newkirk, president of People for the
Ethical Treatment of Animals. ''These boards need rules, not pogroms.''
Dogs, she concluded, ''are not furniture -- they're family.''
The Cavanaughs couldn't agree more.
Florence Cavanaugh, 69, said she was devastated when her beloved
Irish wolfhound died suddenly in February. She and her husband,
John M. Cavanaugh, 72, were almost as shocked when, the day after
the dog died, their co-op board dropped them a note saying that
the board had decreed that the Cavanaughs could not replace the
dog.
''I mean, we were still too upset; we weren't even thinking of
that,'' Mrs. Cavanaugh said. ''My husband got very upset, and
called the board president. He said the letter was a little insensitive.''
The Cavanaughs have decided to move to another Manhattan apartment,
which must be dog-friendly because the Cavanaughs have decided
to get another dog. This time, they want a border terrier. ''We
hate to move,'' Mrs. Cavanaugh said. ''We kept the apartment all
these years. But we were very upset.''
The problem now is finding an apartment that allows dogs.
''A lot do not,'' she said.
Michael Woodruff, a 27-year-old disc jockey and record producer
who came to New York City from Georgia two years ago, was lucky
to find a rental for himself and his Jack Russell terrier, Robert,
4. Now he has spent four months searching for a place to buy.
''It's such a low percentage of dog-friendly buildings,'' he said.
''It's a real pain.''
The city is hard on dogs, Mr. Woodruff said, yet people are dependent
on them. ''We're all so isolated in our small apartments,'' he
explained. ''I mean, we have girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever,
but in the end, who's going to keep you company, and always be
there for you?'' He paused, wistfully. ''Right, Robert?''
Suzanne L'Hernault spent a whole year trying to find a building
that allowed both her and her dog, a Labrador retriever named
Miska.
Then, after she had signed the contract -- but before she had
closed -- the board changed the rules.
''It was maybe four weeks away from the closing, and they made
it a no-dog building,'' said Ms. L'Hernault, a lawyer for a downtown
firm. ''I'd sold my house in New Jersey. I made quick arrangements.
I put a message on the Internet and found someone to act as a
foster parent for the dog.'' She moved in first without the dog.
''I thought it was such a big building -- 35 stories -- that I
could ease the dog in on weekends; nobody would notice.''
But as luck would have it, the board president lived down the
hall and before long spotted her taking Miska out for a walk.
''Three days later, I got a letter,'' she said. ''I ended up selling
the apartment nine months after I bought it.''
Don't feel too sorry for Miska and Ms. L'Hernault. The lawyer
said she made a nice profit on her sale -- and the Lab now lives
in South Orange, N.J., with a nice lawn for frolicking.