Frog Blog

the woman who lives above me, madame G, has more cats than i can fathom. so far i've counted 10. i asked her one day how many she had and she giggled and coyly said she didn't know. i'm not sure if she picks up strays or takes in battered cats from the pound or what, but every day when i walk in my door there is a cat trying to get it, or greeting me with a purr, or watching me warily from the windowsill above my head.

there's one i've named "feisty" because he's fearless and a roamer but also friendly; there's a fat orange one i've named "squeak" because he's like a one-note windbag when i pet him; there's white cat with black markings, black cat with white belly, friendly white kitty always on my windowsill, grey male, grey female, black with no tail, black with no ears, all brownish cat and one more i'm sure i'm forgetting.

all of them seem to have some sort of weird crusty skin ailment somewhere on their body where no hair grows.

and every night there is a violent cat fight either just outside my door or on the floor above me. usually it starts out with this strange sound like a mix between a cooing devil baby and a psycho schizo killer - sort of a low-bellied moan from someone about to start speaking in tongues - which sounds like "wowwoooowwwwaaahwow," followed by the classic sound of a claws-beared hissing teeth cat fight.

in fact, after one particularly disturbing night, i saw "squeak" the morning after looking haggard and pained. he didn't run over to greet me like usual, and i haven't seen him since.

sometimes i make a fist and pound my wall in hopes it will shut them up, but my wall is made of concrete and my pounds are futile.