A crash course on implementing the new pet rules for rental properties, by Sarina Gibbon.
For all the breathless headlines, that Christchurch Labrador puppy case is… remarkably unremarkable. And that’s the point. Parliament’s intent has always been clear: these rules are about enabling tenants to have pets without dumping disproportionate risk on landlords. Principal adjudicator Carter didn’t go rogue; he just did his job.
The architecture is simple. When a tenant asks for a pet, the default is yes – or yes with conditions – not no. You can still get to a no only when you have run out of choices. It is no longer something you can justify with a generic what-if fears.
When it comes to pet consent, the real fault line isn’t between pet-lovers and pet-haters, but between a hard-earned yes and a lazy no. A hard-earned yes is work. It forces you to ask: what conditions make this pet acceptable? Extra bond, deck mats and barriers, temporary fencing, supervision in common areas, end-of-tenancy cleaning and flea treatment.
You design a set of constraints that line up the interests of the tenant, yourself and the insurer.
A lazy no is, at its core, an attempt to hang on to the old “no pets” entitlement in a world where that entitlement no longer exists. It’s the reflex of skimming the new rules and grabbing any example that feels vaguely relevant (e.g. the dog might bark, wow, tell me more) and using that as a fig leaf to say no. This tribunal decision is a clear reminder that that era is over: if you operate a rental business, you need to get over the fact that blanket bans are gone, you are now expected to actively manage pet risk with conditions and pricing.
And when you cast the investment lens on the matter, you will soon see that this isn’t about cats and dogs. It’s about the difference between eliminating risk and pricing risk. “No pets, ever” feels like you’re derisking the asset. That’s fragile under the current settings. When your decision is built on hypotheticals rather than evidence and conditions, you invite exactly what happened here: the tribunal steps in, overrides your refusal, and bolts its own riskpricing model onto your property. You don’t just lose the case; you lose control of the terms.
Pricing risk
Sophisticated investors know how to price risks sharply. And the pet rules facilitate that: a dedicated pet bond of up to two weeks’ rent, tenants on the hook for all pet damage beyond fair wear and tear, and the right to attach reasonable conditions to consent. On paper, it’s elegant and seems fair. But in practice, you should be very honest with yourself about who is paying at the end of the day. Legal liability is theory, collectability is reality. Making the tenant legally liable to recarpet a whole property doesn’t all of a sudden conjure $8,000 into their bank account. Most renters don’t have the balance sheet to fund major remedial work. If your risk plan is “the tribunal will order them to pay”, you’re not managing risk, you’re fantasising. Get back to basics; ask yourself: does my landlord insurance respond to pet damage, on what terms, with what exclusions and excesses?
Don’t underestimate your property manager, they are very much part of your risk engine. They are the ones fielding pet requests, making judgement calls, drafting conditions, and leaving an email trail that will either signal hard-earned yes or lazy no. If your property manager is still in lazy no mode, they’re doing nothing but manufacturing avoidable legal risk, vacancy, reputation damage on your behalf and interruptions to your P&L.
There are lots of opportunities sitting within these new pet rules. We are just scratching the surface. Take this tribunal order as a reminder to upgrade your risk- management approach from vetoes to pricing. Align your legal entitlements with your insurance and property manager’s processes. Pets on premises aren’t the threat. Running a seven-figure asset with a three line “no pets” clause and a lazy no mindset? That’s the real problem.
Sarina Gibbon, Tenancy Advisory Limited, 021 842 374
