Animal — House

The system was perfect.

Their landlord was a man named Harold Finch, a retired accountant who wore cardigans and believed in order. He did not believe in pets. The lease was clear: "No animals of any kind."

For six months, Harold was none the wiser. He collected the rent via autopay from a tenant he’d never met—a reclusive programmer named "Sam." But Sam was a fiction. The house ran itself. Animal House

1. The "No Animals" clause is hereby void, as the undersigned tenant is, by legal definition, a collective of sentient non-human persons. 2. Rent shall continue to be paid via automated fish-canning operation (basement, northwest corner). 3. The landlord agrees to provide monthly pest control, with the specific exclusion of squirrels, who are now officially tenants.

It started with a stray tabby, Barnaby, who found a broken latch on the basement window. He was followed by a one-eyed pug named Gus, who simply refused to leave the welcome mat. Then came the crow, a scruffy philosopher named Poe, who could work the kitchen faucet handle with his beak. The system was perfect

Addendum to Lease Agreement for 13 Mockingbird Lane:

The squirrel nodded, dropped the cherry into Harold’s palm, and chittered something that sounded very much like, Deal. The lease was clear: "No animals of any kind

Chaos erupted. Chestnut grabbed the whole cake. Gus, sleep-sliding on the linoleum, gave chase. Barnaby knocked over a lamp. Poe, from his perch on the fridge, screamed, "Piece! Piece! Piece!" (The only human word he’d mastered.)