She was cantankerous, vulgar, angry, fearful, paranoid, and worst of all she was mean to her mother who suffers from Alzheimer’s. Her name isn’t important. I tried to avoid her when she was coming and going as it wasn’t beyond her to show you her ass that was barely covered anyway, but when that short dress was thrown up to expose her voluminous backside, allowing the viewer to gather a good look, she would also yell at you to ensure she had your attention. Sometimes she went through the motions of pretending to call the police and other times she did call them to vent her spleen that some kind of transgression against her dignity was being committed.

Numerous times the maintenance guys were summoned to her place as it seemed that something was always broken; now that I’ve been inside her now-vacant apartment I see why things were likely malfunctioning. She was the human embodiment of malfunction. Stepping into the explosion that had been a home for two old ladies was akin to walking into someone else’s insanity. This is one of those moments where no amount of photography can convey the mayhem.

Half a dozen cats and nearly twice that number of small dogs were constant companions. Some years ago the mother would take the dogs out when there were just a few of them, but her daughter became mistrustful of the neighbors who would take the time to talk with the sweet old lady who would check her mail 10 times a day wearing a housecoat and at least a couple of pairs of socks. We all knew she was slipping into dementia but she always seemed happy to meet you for the first time and find it surprising that you knew her name and that she once lived in Ohio. For the past few years, mom would only be seen going to and from the car and had become progressively more withdrawn.

This weekend they had mostly finished moving out, leaving behind a shell of an apartment sodden with animal urine and feces – both animal and human, as there were two large green bags in the bathtub filled with adult diapers. At least the human poop was in diapers and bagged up while dog and cat shit is scattered throughout the place. Entering this place I was more intrigued by the sight and foul aroma than the thought of what parasites and bed bugs might be crawling through the ooze and so with the front door wide open I decided to take a non-guided tour into the horror of my own disbelief that fellow humans could live such an existence.

I have to wonder why the animals weren’t removed by some authority looking out for the welfare of animals. Writ larger than that is my curiosity boggling my mind why the mother wasn’t removed and the daughter brought up on elder abuse charges. I suppose that living like turds in a litter box is a better way to keep people than for the state to attempt to care about the welfare of some people who obviously could not care for themselves.

There was a side of me crawling out of my inner 14-year-old that wanted to gloat that the evil persona of the daughter had finally been forced to move even though it portended possibly worse conditions for the mom and then there’s the 56-year side of me that is rattled by society’s neglect of the mentally disturbed. On their last day at our complex, the daughter sounded perfectly humane and sympathetic as she told me that they were moving out and that she wanted to say bye. How could I not feel empathy for their plight and wish them all the best?