Kiki

Kiki prefers the top of the ATM. She claims it like a throne.

The owner's daughter named her. The daughter does not work there. She just made the decision early and nobody overruled it.

ATMs run hot. Bodega cats figure this out fast. In the winter, the machine is the warmest surface in the store. In the summer, it is still warm, but the cat does not care. The spot is claimed. The habit is set. Other warm surfaces exist. Kiki is not interested.

When people try to use the machine, she stares them down until they apologize. Some customers use a different bodega just to avoid the confrontation. Kiki does not care about lost revenue. The owner does, but only a little. Most people laugh. Some take photos. A few just reach around her and punch in their PIN while she watches.

If you have spent enough time in bodegas, you learn to check the ATM first. Fur on top of the machine means there is a cat in the store. You just have to find it. Sometimes the fur is the only evidence. The cat is in the back, in the basement, behind the paper towels. But the ATM knows.

Kiki skips the subtlety. She is right there. Elevated, visible, unbothered. Watching everyone who walks in like she is deciding whether they deserve access to their own money.

From the StoriesKiki's story appears in Bodega Cats of New York, out this fall.