We made an appointment to see the place for that very afternoon. The building was even more impressive on the inside than it was on the outside. The very nice manager showed my mother and me the 24/7 gym and reception hall for private parties on the first floor. Both were absolutely gorgeous. The reception hall had a capacity of 50, with a grand piano, a full bar, several clusters of sofas and couches, and a formal dining table. The apartment was on the fifth floor. It had one (spacious) bedroom, a beautiful kitchen including a brand new fridge and a built-in dishwasher, gorgeous tilework, and plenty of counter and cupboard space, a nice living/dining area, big windows with a beautiful view, brand new carpet, central air and heating, an intercom system, a doorman in the evenings, laundry on every floor, and a garbage chute. And all of this for only $50 more than I was paying already. I stepped outside to confer with my mother, and - in the light of recent experience - decided to put down the deposit and fill out the application, hoping against hope that they'd take me. A move-in date was set for the next Tuesday (the exact date I would have to be out of the old place), and I was to come back on Monday to sign the papers and get the key (giving them time to look at my credit, hopefully not seeing the ongoing eviction proceeding).

Over the weekend, we got boxes together and worked on what I'd say if they brought up the eviction on Monday. On Sunday, my mother and I went back to my apartment to begin packing. Upon entering, we heard my cat, Woody, crying weakly, and found her curled up, barely responsive, behind the TV in my living room. She was 15 years old, and had never sounded anything like this. I did the only thing I could think of: scooped her into my arms and sat on the couch, holding her tight while tears streamed from my eyes.

I carried Woody to my bed and laid her down on my feather comforter, one of her favourite places. As my mother and I packed, I kept a close eye on her, hoping to see signs of improvement. She didn't move from the spot until 12 hours later, when she briefly stopped at her litterbox and came right back.

I also managed to set my hair on fire that day.

On Monday, Woody had shown no sign of improvement, so I arranged to bring her in to the vet. The vet, who I'd never dealt with before, was quite nice and sympathetic. As it turned out, Woody was 10% dehydrated and in renal failure. They couldn't tell much else because she was so dehydrated that there wasn't even any urine to analyse. She was admitted overnight to rehydrate her and figure out what exactly the problem was.

Needless to say, I was nervewracked. Woody had been with me since I was around 13 years old - about half my life. I had bonded very deeply with her, and the idea of losing her was almost too painful to contemplate. My mother reassured me a bit: "You know, I think Woody's gotten more love in the past year with you than in any other year in my life." I like to think she was right about that.

The next day was hectic. I pulled an all nighter packing. My best friend Karen and her husband Rich arrived, with both of their pickup trucks, around 8am, and we started loading the trucks. A little while later, my mother and her friend Cathy (including a very capacious van) showed up. At around noon, Karen and Rich had to go, but by then we only had one load left. After that, my mom dropped me off to prepare the final load, and I called up the vet to see if Woody's results were back.

Even after an entire night of fluids and antibiotics, Woody was still seriously dehydrated. She had pyelonephritis, an inflammatory condition of the kidneys. Even assuming that all treatment options were exhausted, she would still suffer and likely never get totally better. I told my mother, and we both decided what had to be done, but I couldn't make the call. She set an appointment for 3.45.

I couldn't believe it was happening. I knew it could happen, considering how old she was, but I didn't expect it to happen this way. I had always hoped that when her time came, she'd just curl up in her favourite spot and go to sleep one last time.

If she wasn't getting that, at least I'd be there for her. My mom repeatedly told me I didn't have to be there when they did it, but I couldn't imagine not being by her side in her last moments. They gave us a few minutes to be together with her before they gave her the injections, and I just held her tightly petting her in all of her favourite spots, sobbing uncontrollably.

I held her tightly in my arms, my eyes closed, as they inserted the tube into her catheter and started pushing the euthanasia drugs. Through sobs, I told her how much I loved her and how much I would miss her, and that it would all be all right. I opened my eyes when it was over, and started sobbing even harder than I had before. The nurse asked if she could take her body, and I said yes, and said good-bye to Woody.

I was a total wreck. I was so wracked by sobs that I couldn't even stand up at first. I fell onto the floor when I tried to get up from where I'd been sitting. In addition to this, which is definitely one of the hardest things I've ever done, I was on zero sleep and dealing with the stress of moving (under extreme duress). For the next day or so, I was practically inconsolable.

Though I'd made plans to have dinner with Karen, I ended up cancelling them and taking my mother up on her invitation to spend the night at her house. This was not a night to be alone, especially in a place that was filled from floor to ceiling with eight truckloads of boxes.

On Wednesday of the following week, I received an e-mail from my ex-landlord's lawyer. "In lieu of proceeding on claims" for back rent, floor damage (caused by his Eisenhower-era defective air conditioners), and "lock change fees", her client was willing to settle the matter for the sum of $1220 plus court costs. I had until 5pm that Friday to accept, and if I didn't, "no further offers will be extended."

While it was nice to hear the word "settlement" coming from the other side, the offer was absurd. Leaving aside the fact that I couldn't afford to shell out $1220 for the privilege of not proceeding on my valid claims and his absurd ones, it was simply an insult. After mulling it over for two days, I sent off a rather sharply worded response five minutes before the acceptance deadline. "Letter writing seems to be in our blood," my mother remarked upon reading it, "but you may have just elevated it to an art form."

"Dear Ms. Slipshott [name once again changed to protect the guilty]:

"Thank you for your offer. It was quite revealing.

"Specifically, the following things become clear from a reading of your e-mail:

"1. If you seriously intend to go forward on claims for "lock-change fees" and "floor damage", this shows one of three things about your case:

"a. You took your client's self-serving statements at face value and failed to conduct an independent investigation to reach your own conclusions about the merits of these claims,

"b. You visited the scene of the alleged damage and therefore had ample opportunity to see that these claims, for reasons to which I will return shortly, are wholly lacking in merit, in which case your conduct is at best ethically questionable and at worst sanctionable,

"c. Your client is attempting to cover his tracks by simply painting over the evidence, as he has done with the extensive corrosion on the safety rails in the rear of the building in which I resided.

"Even a cursory examination of the site would reveal a water trail leading directly from your client's defective air conditioning unit to the floor. I certainly hope that you do not intend to sue me for damages caused by your client's own failure to maintain the premises in a safe and habitable condition, and specifically to maintain air conditioners provided by him. Keep in mind that it was his employees
who first drew my attention to the water leakage issue, and did basically nothing of substance about it.

"Similarly, if your client is alleging - and this is strongly suggested by your discovery requests - that I at some point changed the locks to prevent your client's employees unlawfully entering the premises, this is patently false. On the date on which I moved out, the door locks were just as I found them when I moved in. If you have a witness testify otherwise, you will be suborning perjury.

"2. Your offer assumes that the court will (a) decline to rule for me on any of my counterclaims and (b) agree that the fair rental value of the premises is the $595 (and subsequently $610) charged by your client. This is doubtful for two reasons:

"a. There is ample evidence that the apartment, and the complex as a
whole, were shoddily maintained and had inadequate safety and sanitation. Moreover, if your client intends to maintain that he believed that the Eisenhower-era air conditioning units he provides were in good working condition, either he failed to have them checked
out prior to letting, as their visibly deteriorated condition and advanced age would warrant, or he is a fool and his maintenance staff are incompetent. Thus, not only is it at best doubtful that the
apartment and the complex were in habitable condition at the relevant
times; the apartment leased to me did not even have the air conditioning I paid for in good faith.

"b. A comparable price to the one charged by your client, in this city,
is charged for units in much better condition, and with substantially
better amenities and maintenance, than those offered by your client.

"3. Your client's exposure is not limited to these proceedings. With ample assistance from you, he has exposed himself to federal liability under 42 U.S.C. § 1983 (see, e.g., Lugar v.
Edmondson Oil Co., Inc., 457 U.S. 922, 102 S.Ct. 2744, 73 L.Ed.2d 482
(1982)). And that is assuming that his other tenants, all of whom have
at least a few causes of action under R.C. Chapter 5321, don't get the
idea of suing him as well. Moreover, your client is exposed to potentially substantial losses should the court order him not to let any unoccupied units until the necessary repairs are completed.

"4. In a phone conversation initiated by your client in April, he admitted to me that his employees had recently attempted to gain entry to my apartment without prior notice or consent. While he claimed that this was due to an "urgent issue", this is clearly belied by the fact that no one had called me until then, and that his employees failed to keep the appointment they had made with me to complete the allegedly
necessary repairs.

"5. Your client will not have the sympathy of the court. It will
quickly become clear that your client is in essence a slumlord. His arrogance and sense of entitlement will not play well on the stand.

"In light of the foregoing, a more reasonable number would be as follows. Taking as a jumping-off point your $1220.00 figure, let us further assume (conservatively) that the value of the various things (adequate maintenance, functioning air conditioners) your client was obligated to provide, but did not is between $100 and $200 a month.
Splitting the difference, we arrive at $150 a month. This figure would
then be multiplied by the 16 months in which rent was indisputably paid to arrive at a product of $2400.00. We would then subtract the total difference between the fair value of the apartment thus obtained from the figure you propose, arriving at $1,180.00 owed to me. Please note that these calculations do not include any figure for damages
arising out of repeated unlawful entry. I would be willing to cut this
number in half and settle all claims currently filed and contemplated
for the sum of $590.00 (one half of $1,180.00) payable to me upon
signing.

Your "offer" would have been perfectly acceptable when I was still in possession of the apartment. That time has passed."

Damn, that felt good.

I followed it up with amended discovery requests in which I asked for information about the criminal records of all employees with keys to the apartment or access to them, as well as any insurance he might have taken out on the buildings. In addition, I "accidentally-on purpose" attached a copy of a draft of the federal lawsuit I'd mentioned. I figured it would probably be food for thought.

Our next court date was for early the next week. This was to be the start of the trial on the "second cause" (see the first chapter). I got up that morning, put on my suit, went to get coffee, and ordered a cab at 9.30. I had to be in court at 10.30, and the cabs usually took half an hour to pick me up, so that should have given me plenty of time. Except, of course, if the cab company fails to send one in the first place. I called several times starting at just before 10.00.

The first time I called, they told me they hadn't even sent the call out to the cabs. After explaining that I had to be in court at 10:30, they reluctantly agreed to actually put the call through to dispatch. At 10:15, they said the cab was "on its way". This is the same thin they said at 10:30. Luckily, I had the court clerk's phone number in my file, so I called there to explain the situation.

After another pointless exchange with the cab company, I started calling around to find another cab. The first time, I made the mistake of mentioning the entire situation; they flatly refused to put the order through. The second company was much more cooperative (and much less thoroughly informed of the circumstances); however, by the time I got picked up, it was already 11.30, and I arrived at the courthouse at 11.45. The courtroom was long since empty.

DAMN!

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty awful. I had just missed court, possibly torpedoing my bargaining position and pissing off the judge. I had been standing in 90° heat for hours in a suit that could be used to channel solar energy, and in incredibly uncomfortable heels. Since I'd only had a few hours of sleep and was feeling generally wretched, I decided to go home and sleep for a few hours. A few hours turned into seven. The rest of the evening, I had decided, would be dedicated to nursing the day's numerous wounds. I made myself a nice dinner, and went about the business of recuperating.

I can't go into all that much detail about what followed, but my taxi woes did not hurt me all that much after all. It's over now.

The pictures Lynn mentioned can be found at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fleur_d_elise [1]