A Neighborly Kitty

This is Vida. This is my coffee table. This is not my cat.

My husband and I moved to our current apartment this spring. We did not know that the apartment kind of came with a new pet and while it may have been a deterrent at the time we kind of love her now. Vida actually lives with our neighbor M. Where she is loved and coddled beyond measure. But when she gets a case of wanderlust she finds herself on our patio, crying for attention, throwing herself against our dining room window or trying to scratch her way through the front door (the poor screen). 

And we never  let her in or, heaven forbid, feed her anything. 

That is to say, we don't invite her in, but we don't kick her out when she whizzes past our legs while we're carrying groceries either. Or when we accidently leave the door open or when we just turn a blind eye as we walk through the door. 

And that is to say, we don't feed her, but we don't let her starve when M. is away and she meows at the fridge. Or when she tries to eat our food or when she can be found drinking out of puddles of water on the patio. 

So yeah. We kind of altered our original dealing with Vida rules into no rules at all. She practically has a key to the front door and yes, we bought a bag of cat food. The fancy kind. No big deal.

I still tell unfriendly service people who let her in while they're working on the apartment that she is not mine and act all flustered and annoyed. But other then that, she's totally mine. 

Don't tell M.