As I ran to let Fluffy out the back door, I knew things had gone too far. For three days we had sunk into the routine of a non-committal, no strings-attached relationship. How long would it last? Neither of us knew. But when I heard the neighbors door slam, I realized the end might arrive sooner than later.

Our tacit deal was one that anyone would dream of. No poop to scoop, vet bills to pay, or cat food to buy. Nor early morning wake-up calls. Just an affectionate, purring, playful kitty. And, at times, a sociopath. She likes to wait until your attention is elsewhere so that she can sneak up and pounce on you, front paws grabbing your ankles. It especially scared Rebekah when she was hiding between the shower curtain and the liner. Freaky.

When we don't let her in, she will sit at the front entrance, meowing so loudly and continuously. She'll also come to the back door, and even sit up higher on the hand rail to get a better view of us inside! Thankfully, she's never begged for food, and she hasn't destroyed anything (yet?).