For more than 20 years, candidates running for office in the Hillbrook/Tall Oaks Civic Association in Annandale, Va., have stood up, waved and received polite applause at the annual meeting in June. Everyone votes, eats ice cream, chats with neighbors and goes home.

This past election, to make the meeting move faster, only the names and qualifications of the candidates were announced. Running for president, Ms. Beatha Lee was described as a relatively new resident, interested in neighborhood activities and the outdoors, who had experience in Maine overseeing an estate of 26 acres.

Though unfamiliar with Lee’s name, the crowd of about 50 or so raised their hands, assuming that the candidate was a civic-minded newcomer. These days, it’s hard to get anyone to volunteer to devote the time needed to serve as an officer. The slate that Lee headed was unanimously elected. Everyone ate ice cream, watched a karate demonstration and went home.

Only weeks later did many discover that their new president was, in fact, a dog.

The news broke in the association’s newsletter with Ms. Beatha Lee’s promise to “govern with an even paw.”

A veritable storm erupted in the bucolic 1950s neighborhood of about 250 families who live in split levels or colonials with about 90 dogs.

“She had a name,” Robin Klein Browder said. “It wasn’t Spot or Rover. It was a first and last name, so everyone thought she was human. I’m not thrilled. I’m embarrassed.”

“Many people, like myself, were amused,” said Dave Frederickson, who read the dog’s name and qualifications to the crowd at the annual meeting. “But some were extremely upset. I’ve spent a lot of time on the phone explaining.”

The duly elected president is actually the pet of the former president, Mark Crawford, who inherited Beatha in 2008 from his mother and stepfather in Maine.

Crawford had served three consecutiveterms as president and, according to association bylaws, could not run for the office again. For weeks leading up to the election, he begged, pleaded and cajoled neighbors to run for the often-thankless volunteer post.

No one bit. Newer, younger families told him they were too busy juggling work, long commutes and kids. And longtime residents said they’d already done their time.

Out of sheer frustration, Crawford decided to put up his dog.

“This isn’t a power trip,” said Crawford, who now serves as vice president under his pooch. “We wanted to send a message to the neighborhood that they needed to get involved and get engaged.