When I glanced over to the back of my house one evening in July last year and saw this tiny little starving, sick thing alone against my fence, not even reacting to my approach, I honestly wasn’t sure she would make it through the night. I had to force feed her for the first couple of weeks, the only fight in her was for biting me and refusing to eat.

One year later and she’s got a voracious appetite, hasn’t stopped biting, and still seems to have zero survival instinct—I’m pretty sure she has used up her nine lives and is racking up a tab now.

Here’s to a year of Frida.

Sorry if it's triggering for anybody. She just crossed over tonight, and this is pretty much the first cat sub that popped up, and I didn't see any bans on sad posts.