‘I Was Happy to Never See That Cat Again.’ When Pets Have It Out for the Real-Estate Agent

About three years ago, I was representing the seller of a three-bedroom apartment in an older co-op building on the Upper West Side. It was a great apartment, but it had exterior hallways that reminded you of an older motel, and there was a window in the kitchen that looked onto the hallway. I was in the apartment getting everything prepared for a showing. The owner had three cats. Two kept to themselves, but the third was an older, grumpier cat. My client told me just not to pet her and she would be fine. As I was getting ready, I reached into my bag to get my phone charger, and all of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain. The cat had bitten me several times on the hand. I yelled and stepped back, but the cat kept lunging at me and swatting at me with its paws. It ripped my suit pants. I grabbed a couch pillow and used it as a shield as I backed up, ending up on the balcony outside. So, I’m out on the balcony, in tattered suit pants with no shoes on and my hand bleeding. I was expecting a broker to come with her clients, but my phone was inside so I couldn’t text her. They showed up but couldn’t get in because the door was locked. The agent could see me from the kitchen window, so I tried to gesture to her, miming out what happened, and she kept looking at me like, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ They finally left. After about 20 minutes, the cat was still hissing and swatting at the sliding door, so I decided to try barking like a dog, which finally got the cat to back up. I gingerly opened the balcony door, grabbed my stuff and got out. I had to go to an urgent care center to get a tetanus shot and antibiotics. Needless to say, those buyers never saw the apartment.

Tim Allen, real-estate agent, Coldwell Banker, Carmel, Calif.

Early in my career, I was working with buyers touring an ocean-view home on a hill in Carmel. The other agent had left the home open, and we entered through a pedestrian gate into a walled patio. We walked through the front door and started looking around. The showing went well, and as we finished, I felt the home might be a good fit for my clients. We approached the front door and were startled to see two very large, and seemingly aggressive, Doberman Pinschers eyeing us through the glass panels adjacent to the front door. They were in the courtyard and were probably in the back when we went in. The only way to the street, and my car, was back through the patio, and that wasn’t going to happen, at least while the dogs were assessing their next snack. I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. To my relief, I saw a couple of prime New York steaks. I grabbed them, went to the front door and tossed them to the far side of the patio, and while the Dobermans were busy devouring them we made a run for the gate. My folks didn’t buy that house, but did eventually find the right property, and I got a new appreciation for the value of prime beef.

Jared Barnett, real-estate agent, Compass, New York City

About five years ago, I had a listing for a duplex loft apartment in a prominent prewar co-op in Greenwich Village. The owners had a creepy territorial black cat that despised anyone in his space. Whenever I would go into the apartment to prep for showings, this cat would just stare through my soul and follow me around. It always made me feel uncomfortable. I told the owners no one wants a pet around when they’re doing a showing, and I asked them to take the cat out. Still, there were a number of times when the cat was there when the owners were at work. The cat would actually follow and stare down potential buyers to the point where they were creeped out. On two occasions, the cat made a scene and started hacking and coughing and threw up in the middle of a showing. Once it was on the rug. I tried to make a joke about it, but everyone was shocked and uncomfortable. I had to clean it up mid-showing, and it was gross. I managed to sell the apartment, and I was happy to never see that cat again.  

—Edited from interviews by Robyn A. Friedman