Old Busybody

There is this old woman who lives in my building who is always in everyones' business. She has lived in this building since the 40s (yes, since WWII) and thinks she knows everyone and everything. I can't stand her. Every year she shows up at our co-op meeting (because some owner or another decides not to come and has given their proxy to her to vote) and, even though she's a renter (rent-controlled, three-bedroom apartment, probably paying half what I pay to live in a two-room studio), she has to speak up throughout the entire meeting with her opinions, suggestions and complaints. Many times bringing up her own apartment issues (sorry, this is an owner's meeting, we are not here for your stupid agenda, so shut the F up). Anyway, so I was taking Lola out for a walk this afternoon and she was standing by the side of the building talking to Sam, our super. Lola always likes to stop and say "hi" to Sam, since she loves him (and he, her), so of course we stop. Well then the old witch has to start exclaiming about how fat Lola is. Loudly and animatedly. Then she has to argue with me that I must be feeding her too much and also feeding her scraps from the table. First of all, it's none of your damn business what I do with my own damn dog. Secondly, how dare you practically accuse me of something that A) I don't do, and B) it's none of your business, if I did. And lastly, I know that my dog could use to lose a few pounds, but the last time we were at the vet (a few weeks ago) she was actually the same weight that she had been a year ago, so she actually is not any heavier at all. What she probably wanted to say was that I had gotten fat. The freaking old, nosy, bitch. I should have said, "wow, it really looks like you got very old this Winter". This is one of the reasons why I prefer dogs to most people. Stupid old crone.