Condo Chronicles

Where hypocrisy lives rent-free. And apparently, so do the pets.

There’s a by-law here. A firm one. Clear, concise, definitive: one pet per unit.

That is, of course, unless the pet belongs to someone they like.

In practice, our building resembles a low-budget wildlife reserve. Two cats? Common. Three dogs? Happens. Exotic birds? Several. One resident even has a parrot that recites the fire code – inaccurately, but with conviction.

None of this is questioned. No warning letters. No “compliance” meetings. No interrogations in the lobby with clipboard in hand.

But I brought two dogs. Service dogs. Prescribed, documented, legal.
Cue the inquisition.

“Why did you move here if you knew you weren’t allowed two dogs?” my neighbors ask.
Because, as it turns out, I was under the mistaken impression that rules were applied equally. That disabilities were accommodated. That fairness was something more than decorative language in the Condominium Act.

I expected reason. I got Mildred and Bite Barker.

Meanwhile, the same people who asked that question go home to multi-pet households – without a whiff of irony. No one asks them why they moved here. No one reports their dogs, cats, birds, or emotional support turtles.

What’s most striking isn’t the hypocrisy. Hypocrisy, after all, is expected. It’s the silence. The same neighbours who greet you with nods and smiles suddenly develop laryngitis when you’re being dragged through procedural mud. Because why risk saying something when you can quietly enjoy your two cats and pretend you didn’t see anything?

This isn’t about pets. It never was.

It’s about control. About who gets questioned and who doesn’t.
About who gets targeted, and who gets quietly left alone.

So yes – I live in a building with a strict one-pet rule.
And yes – I’m surrounded by people who break it daily.

But only one of us needed a doctor’s note.
And only one of us was treated like a problem.

Disclaimer: This post is satire and opinion. Read full disclaimer.