Phil always unlocks the door and pushes it open and there is Pika, arching her back, swishing her beautiful tail.
"Get out of the way, Pika," he says, sometimes pushing her out of the way with the side of his shoe.
She looks at him as he passes. His arms full of a box of Ramen Soup, grocery sacks full of grapefruit hang from his hands.
"Hello Pika," I say as I come in.
She comes out to greet me.
So, here she is, GetoutofthewayPika and HelloPika. She doesn't really answer to either name because she's a cat. And that's what cats do. Answer to nobody.