Our favorite neighbor stopped by today to give me some roach bait that she had promised to give me. I didn’t really want it, because we have fantastic bait that we use, but she was forcing her kindness on me and I had to accept.

She rang the bell while I was on a work video call and I excused myself and went to get the door. There was a cardboard tray in her hand with the bait labeled in juice bottle caps.

As she was explaining what to do, my mind started wondering back to the conference call I was missing, and I snapped back into the conversation when my neighbor started screaming and running towards the stairwell.

I yelled, “Ms. Levy, what’s wrong?”

She was cowering halfway down the hallway, pointing into our apartment. Her reaction was so dramatic I thought she had seen a murderer or a ghost in our apartment.

Having this realization, I turned around to make sure I was safe and I saw my orange cat sitting there staring out the door at this screaming woman.

I laughed because it was all so ridiculous. She was upset that I laughed and she yelled, “I’m afraid of cats. I’ve got to go.”

As she scrambled up the stairs, I shut the door and hid the bait in a high place so the cats couldn’t get at it. I returned to my laptop, I saw that I hadn’t muted my microphone and everyone on the meeting most likely heard the whole ordeal.

They were kind enough to not say anything.

After a few hours I found a note under my door from my neighbor explaining the bait and the post script said: “I don’t like cats. I don’t know why, I just never have.”

The culprit: