They could hire this one…
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Is there room in the support policy for my…
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Agreed, and good point on establishment of renter access. The association has a right to be informed of a new renter.
Covenants and by-laws (including leases and subleases) can say all sorts of things, but that doesn’t make them (necessarily) enforceable agreements. They governing documents could say “No animals of any kind.” but I don’t think that would be enforceable in any state.
A deal’s a deal, right? When we have shopped for houses and apartments, we have always avoided owners’ associations and places that carve out a say in our lives. I don’t understand buying or renting in a place where you know there are bylaws beforehand, then intentionally breaking those bylaws. Either you find the regulations beneficial, or you live somewhere else. What am I missing here?
Just an FYI…you don’t have the cat around for emotional support. The cat keeps you around for its evil nefarious purposes of draining your soul ever so slightly while you sleep.
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Too bad i have no soul :'D
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Just what type of person attempts to take away a man’s squirrel anyway?
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Ugh, I had the little tree rats in my attic one time. The exterminator had to cut a hole in the roof with a one way door and a cage. I hope they didn’t leave babies in the rafters. I did not want to know what was going on behind the sheetrock there.
We have to get out of here! You don’t f–k with the squirrels!
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So surprised they never used that line in Venture Brothers with the death of Dr. Dugong!
Anybody else ever actually spent any significant amount of time with a pet squirrel?
Based on my single sample, they are not good pets*.
With apologies to Pom Poko, “Cats are known for being clever. Dogs are known for being loyal. Squirrels are known for somehow surviving their own incredibly stupid behavior”.
* nor are skunks**
** skunks with intact scent glands are especially bad pets.
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Yup, albeit the “pet” part was totally accidental. Chewy was maybe a month old when disaster struck: he left the nest too early (before he could climb) and hid in the deep grass. Then, unknowingly, my best friend’s husband ran the mower over him – shaved the thinnest possible slice of the top of his head. PANIC.
We managed to stop the bleeding and dress the head wound. Built him a large (3’x3’x3’) enclosure, and nursed him every few hours for three weeks. By the time he was able to eat solid food, we were all buds. Since there were three cats and a dog inside the house, Chewy lived outside almost exclusively.
Amazingly, he thrived outdoors – learned to climb, talk, escape, charm the ladies, etc. But he was always around, for feeding or cuddling or just hanging out. It was so much fun to introduce him to friends! “Hey, you wanna meet Chewy?” “Who?” “You’ll see…just lean against the house here on the stoop for a few minutes with these goldfish crackers; I’ll call him ::click-tic-muk:: Here he comes!”
Chewy would then cautiously approach, twitching and sniffing, until he felt at ease. Then the magic: he would climb up your leg, up your shirt, up onto your shoulder, and give your head a little scritch. In exchange, he wanted a cracker, and like a little ivory-bladed food lathe he would spin that cracker and gnaw at it until it was gone. If you passed the cracker test (i.e. you didn’t freak him out by being freaked out by him) he would let you feed him almonds, his favorite chow. After one or two feedings, he would let you handle him; stroking/petting, playing with his little “hands,” rocking him in the crook of your arm. Absolutely delightful.
An Eastern Grey, Chewy lived for 8 years. Always built his dreys within sight of that back stoop, and we always cleared a path for him in winter. At age seven he vanished for a few weeks…but then returned, minus his tail. It kinda grew back, bifurcated, and the (now teenaged) kids changed his name to Chewy Prince Albert (because the teenage internet is horrible). You could tell he’d had enough…and since two cats and the dog had died by then, and the third cat just didn’t care, Chewy spent his last days mostly indoors (we made a space for him in an attic gable), happily gnawing buckeyes and almonds and goldfish crackers.
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Sorry. 
I recently had to accompany a member of my extended family, who’s family lost their house in the Sonoma fires, to an HAO meeting where the board was trying to insist that the people who lost their homes still needed to continue paying HAO fees despite the fact that the neighborhood was a wasteland. It put me in a particularly bitter mindset about HOAs. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’ll go wash the taste of foot out of my mouth.
#NotAllHOAs
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I want a Chewy the grey squirrel bed time book now.
I said NOW!
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With his needle-like claws 
Long ago I dated a girl with a pet grey squirrel and once it learned to recognize me it would launch itself from her shoulder to mine, generally when I was still about eight feet away.
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Where is my bed time book @s2redux I did say NAO! 
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A new word! Huzzah!
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Wups, sorry – it’s still a WIP! But here’s an excerpt to tide Veruca over:
(with apologies to Adam Mansbach)
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Shouldn’t the tag be “discrimination”, not “descrimination”?
Aw, geez. I’m really torn on this one. One the one hand, yes, it’s cute, and eff the HOA’s of the world! On the other, squirrels destroy almost every piece of fruit my trees produce. Dammit!
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That was one of the most beautiful stories I have ever read. It should be made into a book.
