Apartment Living with Cats
The apartment complex I live in is owned by a personal injury attorney.
No kidding.
It sounds like a joke: What do you get when you cross a landlord with an ambulance chaser?
We moved into our tiny one bedroom apartment September 1, 2005. It cost a small fortune in pet fees to get our well traveled felines in. Two-hundred dollars a head times three cats, plus an added twenty-five dollars a month per cat. Outrageous, yes, but they are family.
In May 2006, the frayed screen in our bedroom window gave out. It was messed up when we moved in. The pressure of the cats leaning on it was too much.
All three cats, curious creatures, went out the window. Chris found the girls in short order. Cubby was huddled between the building and the central air unit. She's my high strung baby who doesn't like change. Otis was calmly exploring the small strip of wooded area behind the building. She came when Chris called her.
Eddie, our handsome boy, was gone a horrible seventy-two hours. I slept with the window open in the bedroom in hopes Eddie would find his way home. Online I read to leave food for an olfactory trail home. We left a bowl of tuna on the windowsill. I'll never forget the thunderstorm that night. Listening to the rain broke my heart. Eddie came home at six weeks old. He never knew a life without a food bowl and a warm, dry place to bed down.
The next day we put the sheet he spent time on outside the door hoping the scent of himself and his siblings would lead him home. The sources I read confirmed that many indoor cats freak out when they get outside. They'll run blindly for sometime before realizing they don't know where they are. By the time instinctual sense of direction takes over, the cat is can be miles from home.
Wither our efforts helped or not, he found his way back to the complex. On the third night, a neighbor from the front building called to report seeing our cat from the fliers we'd left everywhere. Chris bolted out the door praying it would be Eddie. I followed without stopping to put on shoes.
Eddie lost several pounds while he was missing. On his big long frame, it was noticeable. He's made up for those days without food by mooching off our plates every day for the last two years. I swore I'd never get in the habit of feeding our animals off our plates, but I can't bring myself to deny him. What are bits of meat, cheese or egg in light of almost losing him?
In the time since we got our Eddie back, we have signed two new year leases. Our rent was raised the first year, but not the second. The owner (who I have never actually met) has bought the larger apartment complex next door to ours. That makes three managed by the same lady that runs this place and sharing one maintenance man.
We have been requesting a replacement for the defective screen the entire time. Each time, we are told it'll be done in a few days.
On Monday, the manager knocked on the door wanting to come in to look at our faucets. Apparently, the owner thinks the water bills are too high. While that is all well and good, Chris was not going to be bullied. It's against the law for landlords to show up without notice to be admitted.
We'd gone through her "inspections" before. I disagree with anyone having a right to comment on my "clutter" in a space I pay good money to keep my stuff in. Inspect for safety and fire hazards, fine. Otherwise, mind your own business. Still, after failing the first one, we've gone overboard each time they've called for inspections. The indignity of being judged is bad enough without it being pop-quiz style.
We've cleaned, covered and stashed all week. We even got up at 7:30 AM (AM!) to get new litter boxes and litter. Had to wait until today for payday. Of course, I know we'll still get complaints that she can smell it. It's so hard to not tell her to kiss my behind. Anytime they rent to a smoker across the hallway, my bathroom smells like I smoke. Unless someone is standing in my dining room, (and I didn't invite 'em) they'd never smell my litter boxes.
She was supposed to be here between 10 and 12 today. I called the office at 11:55 to find out when I could expect her. The maintenance man was there. He called her for me, reporting she wasn't coming in today. She picked today to have her sick, twenty-five year old cat to sleep. I know she loved the cat. I am not callous toward the difficult decision. Still, she had an appointment with us. I cannot imagine we were the only ones who said heck no to her intrusion Monday. If not, they should have on principle.
It was unprofessional not to handle business as promised. I would be more forgiving if it hadn't happened every time in nearly three years. I know this isn't some luxury condo overlooking Branson private golf courses, but I still expect better for my hard earned rental dollars. Again today, the maintenance man promised a screen for the bedroom window. I even agreed that we'd put it in ourselves. It's a set up where you've got to remove the sliding part of the window to install the screen. I regretted that agreement as soon as I hung up. I regret it even more now, because the screen was not dropped off outside our door as promised.
What exactly am I paying for each month? Over flowing dumpsters and absentee management.
I want to be left alone. I want peace.
I have serious anxiety about being judged in my home, plus a fear of loosing everything I've worked for. Chris, the cats and I having a place to live and our basic needs met is why I get up when the alarm goes off in the morning. Slightly irrational, but I have reasons behind what blows up in my head to disproportionate levels. Inspections and fighting to get something done are both triggers that have me on edge.
Now I can look forward to insomnia, stress and second guessing myself and our cleaning until at least Tuesday or Wednesday.
We need a house. Then as long as I pay the mortgage, no one is going to knock on the door to judge how we live our lives.
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6/8/2008 10:27 PM
The Creative Nerd wrote:
Our tiny apartment sized water heater appears to be a goner. Chris went to make pizza dough yesterday afternoon before I came home from work. He found no hot water was forthcoming when he attempted to get some for the yeast. He tried switching the breaker off, then back on in an attempt to jump start the thing. It was the advice we'd been given by the maintenance guy for our apartment complex when our garbage disposal was broken, so a logical step for the water heater. No dice. Still no hot water. I blogged a while ago about the ...
Holy cow. $75 a month extra. Yikes. I do the same, only it's $25 a month for my dog, and they kindly agreed to overlook the cat--it's a one pet complex. I understand, though.
And a 25 year old cat?? Whoa.
I worry sometimes that maintenance tells the manager that I'm a slob. I understand your not wanting to be judged.
Btw, I really like how you did this post.
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My brother and sister-in-law just paid $500 to get their cat into their new apartment. For one little cat. It's unethical what they charge.
I don't think it's anyone's business if you are a slob. Heck, with two boys, anything short of disaster is amazing.
Wait, you mean maintenance comes to your apartment for things? Weird.
And thank you. Thank you.
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That was so scary about Eddie going missing! I'm so glad he found his way home again. Landlords are the pits. I sure hope you can find a home of your own soon.
Maggie
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Thank you.
We hope not to sign another lease in September. I've lived in apartments and military housing my entire 27 years. I am ready to have a little corner of the world for my family.
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You articulated two of my greatest fears -- a cat tumbling out the window (I live on the 4th floor) and strangers showing up unannounced. (I don't feel like explaining why I've been home a week and my vacation bags are still by the front door, OK?) I'm glad your tale has a happy ending -- at least as far as Eddie is concerned.You must be soooo relieved!
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I imagine your cats are smart enough to not go out the window at four floors up.
For me, my little apartment is a sanctuary from the rest of the world. As long as nothing I do is noticeable from the outside, it's not anyone's business.
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I hated renting! Hated it! I was on the second floor with my windows lining up with the roofline of the first floor porch. One morning, while walking about in my "birthday suit", I saw a man on the roof walking in front of my window! He was working on the roof and my landlord didn't have the courtesy to tell me!
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How awful.
I do dislike that about first floor living. Our last two apartments were second floor, so I tended to take the attitude of "why are you looking in my window?" Here, I seldom open the shades.
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