Hello friendly readers. It’s Sasha, back at the job once again. Alpha Mom says she’s too angry to write a decent post and asked me to cover for her this week. She likes that I stay collected and calm in these situations.
What situation is this of which I speak, you ask? Well, it started (sort of) with this letter that came earlier this month. Alpha Mom says I had to make it really small so that people wouldn’t bother to read all the personal information. But I forgot to do that.
It says, Reason for Non-Renewal: Unacceptable dog kept on the premises: American White Shepherd. I’m an unacceptable dog! Actually, the agent says there’s a “dangerous dog” list and I (my ancestors, actually) am on it.
I’m a dangerous dog!
Secretly (that means don’t tell Alpha Mom) I’m kinda proud of my “dangerous dog” reputation. I mean, as far as the bears and the deer and the skunks know, I am dangerous. I’d like to keep it that way.
But people? They are another matter entirely. I love people, especially little people; they smell nice.
Here I am with the littlest people in our family: Holly and Nolen. They’re from the Canadian side of the family. Lucky!
Still, I am related to those German Shepherds, though pretty far back. They used to make excellent guard dogs but these days they’re mostly used for search and rescue. Our noses are
pretty good great.
Alpha Mom says be sure to talk about how our insurance company has been a thorn in our side for over a year now.
“Thorn in our side,” that was her phrase. I only know about thorns in my feet.
It all started when the Alphas decided to put up the yurt.
I’m actually not crazy about that yurt. But that’s because I’m not allowed in it. They say it’s because I’m not good at wiping my feet and it’s set right next to the pond that I am crazy about. So, I generally just lie down on the front stoop when they go inside. Or in the dirt if I’m really wet.
Alpha Mom keeps poking me. I guess I got a little off track. OK, so the way I understand this, Alpha mom dropped in on this insurance agency lady a few years ago and told her we wanted to put up a yurt.
Yeah. That’s what they all say at first. So, Alpha Mom explained, it’s a portable house, round; it’s what the nomads use when they wander from pasture land to pasture land.
And no; we weren’t planning to move with it. We just wanted one to rent out for some income. (I think they were still paying off my TPLO surgery that year).
Anyway, the insurance agency lady says (and I quote her here from Alpha Mom’s notes).
“It’s an outbuilding so it’ll be automatically covered for 10% of your existing home. But I’ll look into it and let you know if there’s any problem.”
Being that this was just what Alpha Mom wanted to hear, she took the fact that she never heard from not-to-be-named insurance agency lady as a sign that all was good to go. She ordered the yurt.
Now, if she had asked me, I’d have told her how wishful thinking generally gets one into a muddle. But she didn’t ask me and I don’t offer advice unless I’m asked. It’s just a rule I have.
Well, things didn’t go well. Shortly before the yurt was due to be delivered in October, Alpha Mom did call the insurance agency lady back — just in case — and got the worst news ever. They couldn’t rent it. They could have it, it was an outbuilding, but no renters allowed. Something about liability.
Then, worse than that, in May last year, the Alphas got a letter explaining their homeowners insurance wasn’t going to be renewed. That time it was the “dangerous building” on the premises. Something like that. Is there a “dangerous building list” too?
Irate, they marched into the office (they only seem to go to this office when they are marching; have you noticed that?) once again and — ignoring agent lady — they went right to the manager. We’ll call him John. Well, John was very helpful.
He took a look at the yurt that very afternoon, got all the photos Alpha Mom had taken when the yurt was going up, and took the website address for the manufacturer and installer. They got their insurance reinstated pretty quickly.
They still couldn’t RENT the yurt. They could’t even put Alpha Mom’s office in the yurt (because she makes money so it’s called a business.) But John was quite nice; he even scratched my head a few times.
So, we ended up with a very nice little guest
cottage yurt down by the pond. A day bed sleeps two, a butane cooker heats one pot, a commode takes care of other business during the night. I hear it’s quite nice inside. I wouldn’t know. Still not allowed in.
So this year it’s the “dangerous dog” issue. They’re hoping a little education will work once again — like it did for the yurt. They’ve got a nice letter from my nice vet, Dr. Hyde, at the Ryegate Small Animal Clinic, and one from my groomer at the Kingdom Canine Center. That’s also where I took my Manners classes when I was just a pup. I have very good manners, you know.
And, they’re copying all the nice things our AirBnB guests have said about me this winter. Too bad some of them have really bad handwriting. Oh well.
We have until July 19 to either get them to see the “error of their ways” (Alpha Mom said to use that) or get a new insurance company. Our agency says they can’t help us.
Alpha Mom has called a few other insurance companies, of course. And a few of them don’t bother with any “dangerous dog” lists. In fact, she even learned there are some States that don’t allow insurance companies to use such lists. But going with a new company means a lot more money and that’s what’s so tight now. It got even tighter since they can’t rent the yurt.
What gets Alpha mom really angry is that she thought an insurance agent was like a literary agent — someone who would work for her. But no; she says it’s more like self-publishing in the home insurance market. Insurance agencies have contracts with specific insurance companies and it’s those companies that call the shots. And they seem rather averse to risk.
Alpha Mom says that Americans tend to insure themselves up the gazoo and the companies get them to do that through fear. But what really gets her is that at the same time, Americans portray themselves with that cowboy swagger like they can take on any foe, alone.
So she’s mad at the whole insurance industry. I can’t help her there. My “insurance” is simply being nice so she keeps feeding me. Actually, she loves me, so she’d feed me even if I weren’t nice. I guess I just like being nice. It makes everyone around me happy.
Too bad the insurance companies don’t have that attitude, huh?
Until next time: Woof.
How about you? Do you have any Non-Renewable insurance stories to tell? Use my Contact Me page or just tell us in the Comments below. Thanks.
Next week: When’s the last time you read the Declaration of Independence?