Kommunalka Spats Leave Pets in Doghouse
ST. PETERSBURG - As Yelena Lozbinova leaves the playground where a
strange girl is walking her old dog, Epifan, the slim black Doberman
pinscher gives her a heartbreaking look. Lozbinova is desperate for
her former pet, affectionately known as Pif, to come back and live
with her but she does not even know if she will see him again.
"OK, Pif, go now," Lozbinova says. "I'll come and visit you." Pif
obeys the command with visible courage, and Lozbinova begins to cry.
Last October, a judge at St. Petersburg's Nevsky district court upheld
a demand by a neighbor that Lozbinova move Pif out of their communal
apartment, where the 10-year-old dog had lived all his life.
Lozbinova says her neighbor, a woman who has never lived in her room,
leasing it instead, went to court out of spite -- not for Pif but for
her.
In court, the neighbor claimed that the dog was aggressive, although
witnesses all testified that Pif had never attacked anyone.
"What can I do with the dog?" Lozbinova asked the judge as he handed
his decision down.
"That's your problem," the judge replied.
Strangely, legal disputes about pets living in St. Petersburg's
communal apartments first appeared only about two years ago, although
the stressful phenomenon of apartment-sharing has plagued the city for
the past 80 years.
In December, the Pushkinsky district court made a similar ruling in
the case of Madja, a cat who was accused by her owner's neighbor of
eating 13 sandwiches prepared for guests. And in November 2000, the
Krasnogvardeisky district court ordered two cats belonging to Tatyana
Yermolayeva to be expelled from their apartment.
Unlike Moscow, St. Petersburg still has a huge amount of communal
apartments, or kommunalki.
More than half the city used to live in these big, shared apartments,
where up to 10 to 15 families lived together, using the same kitchen
and toilet but sleeping in separate rooms. Today, 230,000
Petersburgers still live in communal apartments, which are famous for
everything from kitchen bickering to immense levels of cooperation
among residents.
Pets have always been a major source of conflict in communal
apartments, whether it be over a stolen piece of sausage or an awkward
little puddle near a neighbor's door. But court cases arising from
such incidents were unheard of until recently.
Konstantin Fyodorov-Naryshkin, a St. Petersburg lawyer who specializes
in defending pets, says he first came across such cases last year.
"I guess it comes from people's increasing cruelty and aggressiveness,"
he says. "Plus, often people go down the legal route not just to get
rid of a neighbor's pet but to receive financial compensation or
attain some other goal." Yelena Irkhoglainen, head of St. Petersburg's
Animals Defense Society, says people sometimes go to court to rid
themselves not of the pets but their neighbors. After forcing a
co-resident to move out, they can then buy up the vacated room, she
says.
Galina Pavlova, the owner of Madja the cat, says: "What is most
terrible is that people use pets in order to settle a score with their
neighbors." Like Lozbinova, Pavlova, 50, had arguments with an elderly
neighbor who eventually found a way to get her revenge: by accusing
Madja of eating an improbable amount of sandwiches, a charge Pavlova
denies.
Yermolayeva says her neighbor's legal attack on her two cats also
arose from strained relations inside the communal apartment.
Fyodorov-Naryshkin says the most frustrating aspect of such cases is
that it is legally almost impossible to protect the pets. He says that,
according to the Rules of Communal Living issued back in 1985, "residents
of communal apartments may have pets only with their neighbors'
agreement." "Although they are already completely obsolete, these
rules still exist," the lawyer says. "Therefore, judges who make a
decision to move out the animals are factually correct."
Fyodorov-Naryshkin says the rules are outdated because many rooms in
communal apartments are now privatized, meaning that the owners of
those rooms have the right to do whatever they want with their
property.
In addition, veterinary rules issued in St. Petersburg in 1998 say
that "pets have no right to stay in places of common use in communal
apartments in case a neighbor has medical contraindications against
them (e.g. allergies)." Fyodorov-Naryshkin says that all problems
-
both legal and social - regarding pets in Russia are caused by the
absence of a law on animal rights.
Meanwhile, the ordeal of Pif and Lozbinova continues. After hearing
the court's verdict, Lozbinova was at a loss for what to do with her
pet, whom she had bought 10 years earlier for her son's fourth
birthday. Eventually, she decided to take the pedigree Doberman to the
city's dog shelter.
A week later, however, Lozbinova went to visit Pif at the shelter and
found him dirty, covered in the other dogs' feces and seriously ill. "It
was impossible to see a dog who has lived all his life in a nice home
living in a cage," she says.
Despite the court order, Lozbinova took Pif home, washed him, treated
him and made him well again. But shortly afterward, Lozbinova's
neighbor came round to the apartment and, seeing that Pif was back
home, appealed to the court again.
Lozbinova was frustrated but there was nothing she could do but take
Pif back to the shelter. At this point fate intervened, Lozbinova says.
"When I approached the door of the shelter, a girl who was riding a
horse nearby stopped me," she says.
The young woman, Irina Ilyina, asked Lozbinova if she would rather
give the dog to her than to the shelter. Lozbinova agreed.
For several months, Pif lived in Ilyina's small dacha on the outskirts
of the city. Ilyina, 22, who has two horses and runs paid rides for
children in a nearby park, picks up dogs in trouble and even keeps a
baby goat in the smoky interior of her little house.
"We are crazy people," Ilyina explains with a smile, pointing at a
couple of male teenage friends. "Instead of taking drugs in cellars,
we take care of poor animals." But Ilyina says Pif felt uneasy living
outside the city, so she gave him to a friend, Valentina, 15, who
lives in an apartment block.
Madja has enjoyed a happier fate than Pif. Pavlova, her owner, ignored
the court's decision and kept the cat with her. Soon afterward, her
dissatisfied neighbor found a separate apartment and moved out. The
new neighbors did not mind Madja.
Yermolayeva also kept her cats. When court marshals come to check if
she has obeyed the court order, she hides her whiskered friends.
Lozbinova, meanwhile, visits Pif only rarely now -- once every couple
of months.
"It's too hard for me and for him," she says. "He gets so happy when
he sees me, but then it becomes time to leave, and it's a tragedy for
us both." Lozbinova gives the girl in the playground, Valentina,
sausages she has brought with her for Pif. "Please, call me if he
needs anything," she says.
Pif jumps around Lozbinova, licks her face, then puts his long paws on
her shoulders and stares into her eyes. Then it is time for Lozbinova
to go.
