The Great Lease Signing Mix-Up: When “Pet Friendly” Goes Too Far

As a property manager, you learn quickly that leasing is never just about handing over keys and paperwork. Sometimes, it’s a comedy of errors, misunderstandings, and the occasional awkward moment. And then there are times when you really need to double-check every detail. This story, dear reader, is one of those times.

It all started on a typical Thursday afternoon when I was scheduled to meet with Claire, a young professional moving into the building for the first time. She had called the week prior, asking about our pet policy. “Of course, we’re pet-friendly!” I had assured her, a phrase I said at least a dozen times a day. “Just let us know if you have a pet, and we’ll get everything sorted.” The conversation was simple enough, but the devil, as they say, is in the details.

When Claire arrived to sign the lease, she seemed upbeat and excited. She was all smiles, dressed in casual chic, and her only luggage was a stylish tote bag. No signs of pets anywhere, which I thought was a little odd considering our earlier conversation, but hey, she was here to sign the papers—the important part. I sat her down and started explaining the lease. You know the drill: rent due dates, security deposits, maintenance requests. Everything was going smoothly until we got to the pet policy.

“Okay, Claire, you said you had a pet, so just to confirm—Whiskers is your cat, correct?” I asked, flipping to the pet policy section.

Claire nodded with a grin. “Yes, that’s right. Whiskers is my cat.”

“Alright. Just to remind you, we have a non-refundable $200 pet deposit, and we ask that pets are kept in the apartment, with no barking or meowing loudly at all hours of the day or night. We want to keep things quiet for the neighbors,” I explained, handing her the form to sign.

“No problem, Whiskers is super chill,” Claire said, almost too enthusiastically. “He’s very well-behaved.”

I smiled politely, thinking, Sure, sure, every pet owner thinks their animal is an angel. But I let it slide. She was signing the lease, so it was all good.

With everything sorted, I handed Claire the keys to her new apartment and wished her well. I had a few more items to wrap up for the day, but honestly, I felt pretty good. Another successful lease signing. The paperwork was complete, and I didn’t think much more about it.

Fast forward to the weekend. I’m at my desk on a quiet Saturday morning, when I get a call from Claire. She sounded frantic.

“Hey, so, uh… I think there’s been a mix-up. I’m having some trouble with Whiskers,” she said, almost apologetically.

“Trouble?” I replied, my mind immediately racing through a checklist of possible issues—did the cat escape? Was it scratching up the furniture? “What kind of trouble?”

“Well… Whiskers, uh, isn’t exactly your typical cat,” she said slowly. “And I think I might have forgotten to mention this…”

I started bracing myself for something strange. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Well,” she continued, with a bit of hesitation, “Whiskers is actually a 5-foot-long Burmese python.”

Cue the sound of me choking on my coffee.

I’m sure I stared at the phone for a good minute, trying to process what she’d just said. “Wait, hold on. You have a… snake?” I asked, trying not to laugh or panic.

“Yep! A giant snake. But he’s super sweet, I promise! He’s totally non-venomous and very low-maintenance. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

Now, here’s where I should mention that our pet policy had never once mentioned anything about giant snakes. Cats, dogs, and the occasional hamster? Sure. But a 5-foot python? That was a whole new realm of pet ownership I hadn’t prepared for.

After a few seconds of dead silence on the phone, I managed to regain my composure. “Claire, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t think your snake is quite what we had in mind when we said ‘pet-friendly’…”

“But he’s really well-behaved!” she said, almost pleading. “He just hangs out in his little corner and sleeps most of the day.”

“I’m sure he’s a lovely companion, but unfortunately, I’m not sure our tenants would agree with your assessment of ‘well-behaved,’” I said, trying to keep the conversation light. “And I’m going to be real with you—if he gets out, there might be more than just a little ‘meowing’ from neighbors…”

Claire took a deep breath and said, “Okay, okay, I get it. I probably should’ve mentioned it earlier. But hey, he’s really friendly, and I promise he’s not going to cause any trouble. He mostly likes to sleep in the closet. I could even send you a picture, if that helps?”

My brain scrambled for an appropriate response. I knew I had to say something professional, but all I could think about was the image of a python curled up in a closet—definitely not in the lease. “Listen, Claire, I don’t think Whiskers is going to be a good fit for this particular building, but if you’re willing to find a pet-snake-friendly place, I’ll be happy to recommend a few other options for you.”

After some back-and-forth, Claire reluctantly agreed to find a more suitable home for Whiskers, and she graciously took the snake (and his extensive collection of heat lamps) elsewhere.

It wasn’t the outcome I had expected, but it was certainly a conversation I’ll never forget. And now, every time someone asks about our pet policy, I make sure to clarify: “Yes, we’re pet-friendly. But no pythons.”

Because honestly, you just never know.