Part 2 of my blog series on horrible roommates continues today with Richard, who moved in with a 3 pound teacup Chihuahua named Lola and a 20 pound Chihuaha mix named Poopers. Richard was very forthright in telling me that he had previously dealt with a crystal meth addiction, but was fully recovered. To set my mind at ease, he gave me his father’s phone number and told me that if any issue ever arose with him, I could call his father and he would set everything straight. Richard then moved in, and told me that I would never have to worry about his dogs because he crated them at night in his room, and was completely responsible for their feeding, walks, and bathing. There were no issues with Richard for the first few months, and he was proud of himself because he had been able to continue his employment as a dog groomer, a job which he enjoyed immensely.
Then one Sunday morning, I was awakened at 4 am by the sound of Lola yelping and crying in Richard’s room. I walked across the hall to Richard’s room and knocked on the door, calling out for him. When there was no response, I opened the door to find the dogs in their respective crates, with food and water bowls on the opposite side of the room. The crate doors were closed and latched. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Richard since Friday afternoon, and became very concerned that these poor pooches were trapped in their crates since then. I immediately took them out of their crates, put kibble in their food bowl, and filled their water bowl with water. Once they had something to eat and drink, I took them outside so that they could go to the bathroom and run around a bit. I ended up letting the dogs roam around the house, and spoke with my other roommate Paul later in the morning about splitting dog walking duties with him, to which he heartily agreed.
I dialed Richard’s dad’s number around noon that Sunday, and a young man answered. When I asked if Richard’s dad was there, I was informed that he was not there. I then asked if Richard happened to be there, and was told that he wasn’t there either, but my gut told me that he probably was there. So I told the guy who answered the call to inform his buddy Richard that he was in big trouble, and that because he had locked his dogs in crates for an extended period of time, I would be contacting animal rights organizations to report Richard.
Richard showed up two days later, but wouldn’t look me in the eye, and he looked like he had been tweaking. He apologized for the dogs, said he would take better care of them, and then left. This is when Richard began to exhibit some very bizarre behavior. He would sneak into the house very late at night, grab clothes or whatever else he needed, and then quickly leave without taking care of his dogs. Since I didn’t trust Richard, Paul and I continued to feed and walk the dogs, and we would crate them at night. Then after about two weeks of this pattern, Richard let the dogs out of the crates one night and then left. The next morning, the dogs had managed to urinate and defecate all over his bed, the carpeted floor, and a stack of his dirty clothing. It was like they lashed out at him by peeing and pooping everywhere. The situation was so bad that the smell of dog urine and feces had soaked into the floorboards, and even after I replaced the carpeting in that room, the faint odor of dog waste persisted.
The day after the dogs had their grand excretory event, I contacted an attorney and had an eviction letter drawn up which I put on Richard’s bedroom door and also sent to his dad. I also called him and left him a message letting him know I was looking into having the dogs rehomed immediately. It took several days for Richard to clear out his belongings, but he managed to empty the room, and he also unfortunately took the dogs with him. His security deposit was spent on replacement carpeting for the room.
I can only imagine what happened to Richard, but I assume that he fell completely back into his meth addiction.