The day started well enough, in that we went to view the proposed new house, and all seemed perfect. As we walked around I could see everything working in this environment. There was a side of me that felt slightly less welcome than if we were buying the house, but I suppose that is the rental market. The letting agent advised us that there was a lot of interest in this place, so as a result, I took a chance and put down a £200 holding fee (non refundable), and started filling out the form. On it was a section about pets, and I asked the agent whether I needed to bother about the Guinea Pigs on the form, to which she replied “Oh, it’s no pets at all”. My heart sunk to my boots. I explained about my little hairy soul mate, but all to no avail. I offered £100 a month extra. The Agent rang the landlady, who still said no. She had suffered a crappy tenant with a dog, and vowed never again. Under the circumstances, they were very kind and let me have 24 hours to think about it, and would refund us if we said no. Deep down, I always knew this would be a problem. Unfortunately, not many rental properties will accept pets. What a nightmare. Youngest would be devastated, Eldest seemed only to care about moving close to boyfriend. Mrs Plug was sympathetic, but, ultimately, was it right to put all our plans on hold over a dog that technically doesn’t even belong to us? We got him from a charity scheme, and in effect we are just fostering him. I’m heartbroken. He has been there at my side every day for the last year, and we have such a good bond. I know he’s “Only a dog”, but if I hear that phrase at the moment, I am likely to kill.
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