Breed Restrictions Apply

I figure that now that we’ve been in San Diego for more than a week, I can vent to you one of my biggest frustrations about moving down here.

Many of my friends have been asking me where we found an apartment. What neighborhood are you living in? Is it a one or two bedroom? In a complex or detached?

The answer I have for them is one that most married (or unmarried) 27-year-olds hate having to utter.

We moved in with Handsome K’s parents. TEMPORARILY.

Let me say that I love my in-laws. I’m serious and not exaggerating a bit! I know that when it comes to marrying and being legally tied to a family that I hit the jackpot and for that, I will be forever grateful.

However, we’re at the age where it feels like a set back. Not finding a place to move into wasn’t for lack of trying; it was for one solid reason.

Our sweet dog, Moe.

No one wants to rent to people with a pitbull! ARRRRGH! We come with excellent references from our previous landlords, and even had our old neighbors write recommendation letters for him. Truly, I am sick of having to defend him to every person he passes.

I know what some of you are thinking: “He’s a pitbull, Elizabeth, not everyone’s going to understand he’s not a killer.” The truth is, though, I don’t care and I’m tired of everyone assuming the worst. He is the most loving, loyal dog and is amazing with people, especially children.

Yes, he’s got some pitbull in him; we also think he’s got some American bulldog and boxer, but no one cares about that point of his lineage. Yes, he’s missing his ears, but I think it makes him look like a little teddy bear (lemons into lemonade, people) and it’s not as if we were the pair that cut them off!

Another annoyance I’d like to chat about is the “quiet, small dog” paradox I’ve been finding in many listings. We lived across the hall from two Chihuahuas for a year and a half and let me tell you, I don’t think they ever shut up. How their vocal chords handled that amount of stress, I will never know. They certainly managed to help me go deaf in one ear (thanks, assholes!). Furthermore, I feel I'm only doing my duty in exposing this great ruse by also mentioning I've been bitten by a dog thrice in the last year, and every time it was by a rat-like canine that weighed less than ten pounds. Similar to this:

This may or may not be an exaggeration.

Either way, I thought it was public knowledge, but apparently some are still confused on this bit, so let me clarify: small dogs are never quiet. They never sleep all day. If you want to keep your building “serene” and “calm,” rent to people with a big dog.

In summary (and to tug on your heartstrings a bit), my dog has had some bad cards dealt to him in life, and as his owner and a true fan, it would be nice if people gave him half a chance.

And gave us a chance… with an apartment.

Please, San Diego. Play nice.