Twenty-nine years ago when I was a freshly minted NYU(seless) grad, I found my no fee, rent-stabilized, gas and electrical inclusion (i.e., no charge for gas and electric), Upper West Side hovel in The New York Times. After making the mistake of agreeing to take me on as a tenant, my Irish-Catholic landlady, Catherine McCrank (name changed to protect the demented), ordered me to sit at her kitchen table to write a list of house rules that she dictated. I made the Faustian deal to follow her rules for the life of my tenancy in her building.
Deal with the devil circa 1983.
Since Manhattan usually has less than a one percent vacancy rate and I had been looking for a garret for three months, I would have willingly signed a confession that I was San Francisco’s Zodiac serial killer between the ages of four and twelve just to land this affordable 312 square foot crash pad.
The first rule was No pets. No air conditioner which has haunted me brutally this summer appears further down the list. Back to Mrs. McCrank’s No pets rule, she loathes animals, particularly dogs. Some tenants have snuck in cats, and occasionally there have been dog visitors, but this has been a dog-free house as long as I’ve resided here and at this stage, I’m almost the oldest tenant in the joint. The length of my tenancy shocks the younger residents when they ask that irritating question:
Younger resident: How long have you lived here?
I used to give an honest answer but after a while I grew tired of hearing:
Younger resident: No way! You’ve lived here that long?
Now when someone asks I handle it as follows:
Me: I can’t remember. Forever!
Then, I laugh, and they laugh and what we’re laughing at neither one of us knows other than they’re probably paying a good fifty percent more than me in rent, so I suppose the joke’s on them.
Unlike Mrs. McCrank, I love dogs. I grew up with a mutt I adored that hated my guts, Mean Streak.
Meanie on the lookout.
In the above photo, Mean Streak’s paw was bandaged from excessive nail biting; he was a worrier as well as a canine warrior. He was also an excellent watchdog and I assumed that he barked and snarled at me to maintain his skill set. I never held his ferocious temper against him.
I always figured I’d eventually live in a place where I could finally have a dog, but after twenty-nine years living in this sweltering, albeit affordable, rat hole – where I’ve just renewed the lease to start year thirty, I’m resigned to the reality that this is never going to happen. Therefore, the closest thing I have to a pet is Bill E., my newly acquired puppet barnyard goat.
Low maintenance puppet pet. Just dust off on weekends.
I also like to come and go as I please. Dogs need a lot of time and attention. I oversleep nearly every morning of my life. If I had to add “walk Fido” to my to do list I’d never make it out the door in time to squeeze onto the jam-packed subway train for my commute downtown, sandwiched between satchels with enough space to fit a week’s provisions for a family of four.
What is in here, fifty copies of “Fifty Shades of Gray”?
Fortunately, there is a silver lining to my tale of no-pooch-for-me woe.
There’s Blanca.
“That be me!”
This adorable 9-year-old Westminster Terrier lives across the street from my brownstone with her always pleasant owner, A. They’re quite a team and it’s probably a reflection that A, who is so cheerful, would have a mellow dog. Possibly a telling factor in Mean Streak’s sour demeanor was that my childhood phone number was 1-800-LUNATIC. Was that a coincidence? Probably not.
Back to Blanca, seeing her and A on my walk to the subway station to head down to The Grind is a welcome start to my day. Lucky for me, Mrs. McCrank did not have one more rule on her list, “No socializing with neighborhood dogs.”
“Arf you, Mrs. McCrank!”
Lame Adventures 
Excellent; and thanks!
R.
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Glad you enjoyed, Robert!
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Okay, I was able to decipher all of the conditions in 1983 Deal with the Devil. Except the penultimate edict on your list. No water boats? Never mind, no water beds! Well that makes a hell of a lot more sense cuz how would you ever get a dinghy, much less a yacht, into your apartment?
On the issue of electrical appliances, I imagine that as long as a vibrator is not sucking juice from the main current you can have as many as you want, and turned on 7 hours a day. Unless of course there’s a provision on page two against screeching in glorious rapture.
Along these lines, what was up with the NY Post headline this morning? The city is cracking down on vibrator giveaways? Didn’t have the required shekels to pick it up at the bodega in Hoboken this morning. Care to comment? I really can’t visit their website or give Mr. Murdoch any of my filthy lucre.
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Wow, Mike, you sure have electronic swizzle sticks on the brain today. I have no idea what’s up with that Post headline having not seen it myself. If anyone was reading it on my train ride in, my view was completely obscured by a sea of humanity coupled with satchels the size of the sky. Anyone else care to weigh in about that oh readership of seven?
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Regarding orgasma-orbs and wonder wands, all I have to say is this: a day without m********ing is like a day without sunshine. (With NO apologies to Anita Bryant.).
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How did we descend from cute dogs and fluffy puppets to this so quickly? I haven’t even had my morning tea yet.
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In tune with Olympic fever, let’s blame the Brits. Had they not gone after Murdoch’s media empire with their investigation on his tabloid’s irresponsible and sleazy (not to mention illegal) behavior, he wouldn’t need to boost sales in the US to increase revenues. If he didn’t need so much cash he wouldn’t be publishing scandalous headlines. Yeah, right. Okay, I admit it. I’m just a perv at heart.
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Works for me. You are Catholic.
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And yet another Amen from the congregation. BTW, cute dogs.
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Blanca is definitely one of the friendliest faces in my hood.
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No AC? She does realize that NYC is not like the lovely Limerick–which is all about rain, fog, freeze and misery.
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I think it was supposed to motivate me to find new digs when my first lease expired in 1985. Little did she know what a hearty soul I am.
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“Arf you!” Hahaha! Only you could come up with that comic genius. I think living in that hell hole only speaks of your resilience and fortitude if not your slightly masochistic tendencies… 🙂
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And I’m also cheap (in oh so many ways).
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…and the chorus smirks, while the organist nearly spits out false teeth in merry laughter…
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Guess that’s better than spitting out merry teeth in false laughter.
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Wow. Mrs. McCrank really needs to get laid.
I understand how one can sign such a deal with the devil in the quest for affordable housing in Manhattan. But I still marvel/shake my head sadly at the fact that you’ve been dog- and air-conditioner-free all these years.
Bill E. is probably a good pet. And his food bowls don’t get all stinky in the heat. But Blanca is so cute! She’s actually smiling!
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Blanca is actually smiling, she’s quite a character! Bill E. advised (as I hallucinated), “Get the A/C first — deal with getting a real dog later, but remember, I’m not a chew toy!”
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Turn off lights when not home? Hmm sounds like you are boardin with the warden and it brings me back to the halcyon days of my youth in NJ when I lived at home as a teen and my mom would yell at us for leaving lights on with the phrase “Do you kids work for PSE&G!!!!” (NJ’s Public Service Electric & Gas)..or better yet my Italian grandma Carrie shouting “This place is lit up like Luna Park!!!”
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My current next door neighbor, who’s the same age as my toenail clippings, smokes (no smoking was added to the list about 10-12 years ago), has his lights on 24/7 AND has a pad wired for A/C! What would Carrie say about him — other than he’s Irish from Ireland and is clearly related to someone at the top of the shamrock?
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Haaaa..Carrie wouldn’t say anything..she spoke softly and carried a big wooden spoon which would have been taken out of her sauce and clunked on said neighbor’s noggin!
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For a battleaxe, she did have her admirable quality (note the intentional use of the singular).
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ooooo..just for that your dreams will haunt you tonight and the Carrie you dream of won’t be Sissy Spacek!
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Oh joy, I’m going to get a visit from the woman that ranks right behind the Marquis de Sade in the physical affection department.
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I don’t have air conditioning in the Mansion, LA if it’s any consolation… I have to go to the bathroom to cool down slightly (It’s always cold in there!) Having said that, it’s not very often that the days are so warm that I HAVE to cool down! And talking of cool, how cool is Blanca, smiling like that? Does Mrs McCrank smile? Is she cool?
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I have the strangest feeling that my comment has gone out of synch order-wise. Absolutely no idea how I managed to do that… sorry, LA!
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Really? I don’t think Walpole E. Epstein’s come around here to spread his special brand of chaos Tom … but he does stalk you on your site.
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It must be Walpole’s fault… him and his reality altering black holes!
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And we never know when he’s going to pop up. I half expect you’re going to soon tell us that you opened your refrigerator and he was in there polishing off your leftover steak and kidney pie or some other distinctly British foodstuff that makes most Yanks run hurdles in the direction of Italy and France.
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I’d be joining you all in that hurdles run if I was offered a steak and kidney pie… ugh! Na.. I much prefer normal food, like welsh rabbit or beef stew and dumplings… much better!
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Is rabbit even an ingredient in Welsh Rabbit and what’s the difference between a rabbit and a rarebit in that dish? I’m putting you to the test old chap.
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Not at all, ’tis merely cheese on toast, with a sprinkling of whatever else is to hand. I knew it as rabbit long before I’d even heard of rarebit… and there are Scottish and Irish varieties too but I have no idea of how they differ (maybe they use goat’s and sheep’s cheeses). There may even be a Cornish rabbit – but I may have dreamt that one… you know the thing about cheese and dreams! Rabbit isn’t a confirmed ingredient, as far as I’m aware…
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What a relief to know that my favorite wild hare (Bugs B) is safe!
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Mrs. McCrank is quite the sourpuss, Tom. She has gotten even crankier over the years. Whenever I say, “Hi” to her I get the, “Will you ever move out of my house so I can gut renovate your hovel and jack up the rent” look. That doesn’t come with a smile.
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Ah… she sounds just like my current arch enemy, the Leopard, except the Leopard does smile – in a evil kind of arch enemy way.
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Yeah, I remember the Leopard! She annoys the hair gel out of you.
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Mc crank still alive? Children that are wise to your posts?
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Aw, Bianca is gorgeous, and your analysis of Mean Streak has earned you a place in Doggie Heaven for your forbearance. Your landlady is now fixed in my mind as the one in the 1968 Producers…. “He’s up on the roof with his boids”….
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I loved that film Kate! Sometimes Mean Streak appears in my dreams and he’s indifferent to me — his way of being nice. Blanca is a cutie!
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Socialize with dogs across the street … well … there you go with your positive thinking. At least your rent is low 🙂
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Bill E. looks like a fine pet indeed. Although I don’t know how you’ve been without AC (Ms. McCrank must like the heat….ummm, wonder why THAT is). Least you’ve got Bianca, all the great stuff of having a pet without all the fuss. At least fall almost here so abiding by one of her evil rules won’t be as difficult. And hey, you are on the Upper West side, right? This was great.
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Brigitte, there are days this summer when I’ve been about as hot as a blast furnace in hell, but you’re right, it will soon be fall and I’ll be back to my usual tepid temperature self. Clever Mrs. McCrank lives in a different building far from the sounds of my whining. Thanks for visiting!
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Blanca is adorable. I love dogs that smile! I’ve enjoyed your comments on MW’s and Le Clown’s places for awhile. I look forward to following! Hope it cools off soon in NYC!
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Blanca is a sweetie. She’s a perfect fix of dog for the dog-less. Thanks for the follow Cathy.
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Okay, so I’ve seen leases that said things like “No water beds” and “No pets”. But “No tape on the walls”? Jesus. Why doesn’t she just say, “No cooking food” or “No owning possessions”? Wow.
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Gee, you posit all good points. Possibly those rules appeared in later versions? Mine dates back to the (barf) Reagan era. Thanks for the visit, comment and the follow.
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Don’t thank me for the follow just yet. I comment a lot. You may come to hate me.
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I welcome comments, just as long as they’re not made in my ear when I’m reading The New Yorker on my way into The Grind.
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Won’t happen. I’d she doesn’t hate me by now, you’ll have nothing to worry about.
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Thanks for the endorsement.
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I like this one. Clever and witty — as are the comments. I can’t keep up! but I enjoy.
I wonder if my friend R and your friend A would get along?
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Back story about the storm of visits on this very rainy day in the Apple, my friends Madame Weebles and Le Clown gave me a shout on on his site. Glad you enjoyed meeting Blanca. She’s a charmer! A’s a pretty naturally sunny person, so unless you’re the second coming of Lucifer, she’s cheerful with everyone.
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I miss having a dog, but you’re right, they’re a lot of work–essentially a slightly-more-capable child. So Mrs. McCrack doesn’t want you to bring home a dog. Blow her mind and bring home a proddie!
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Oh, I’m sure I have. Having lived there so long, it’s a bit of a challenge to recall all of one’s (ahem) guests through the years.
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