My so-called journal

I guess the kids in the duplex apartment on the first floor of our building were fighting for their right to party last night. (Several years ago, the landlord renovated one of the back first-floor apartments to include the basement space directly under it; consequently, we always get a group of frat-like tenants occupying it.) It was the first really obnoxious party of the season and when it was getting close to midnight and they were still whooping and yelling, I started filling a bucket with water, with the intention of dumping it down on them if they didn't quiet down much after midnight.

I poured the first bucket on them around 12:15 and there were screams and "Aaaugh! Fücking cünt!" yelled up. They didn't get the message, so I threw down a few more buckets at various intervals. They kept on laughing and yelling each time, so finally when it was getting close to 1:30 I scooped some cat turds out of the litter box and poured them down. There was silence, although several minutes later my dog started going crazy about a noise out in the hall; apparently someone had run up the stairs to see what apartment the turds came from. I know they could have looked up to see which window the light was coming from, but even if they know they're not likely to complain to the building management.

Sorry, no pix; I realize if I had been out they could have kept going all night long, but I know this noise bothers other people too, and not just in our building. Why couldn't they take the party indoors?

Hey, padiwack, it turns out your Binx was a TNR cat (Trap, Neuter, Return.)

I just found out because I'm about to adopt a fluffy gray cat that apparently used to be feral as well; cat rescuers clip the ear when they trap the cat and "fix" it, so they can see at a glance that the cat was already altered and doesn't have to be opened up again.



This is Fifi, and she's at an animal-rescue place called "Li'l Monsters" that's very close to my home; this afternoon, I brought my dog over to when I went to see their available animals. I asked to see their oldest cat, and they introduced me to Fifi. I asked to see the oldest cat in the place because I wanted a cat that wouldn't take any shit from dogs, and they said she often made friends with dogs, but always knew how to tell them when they were crossing the line. When they brought her out of the area, Corky tried to make her run the way he makes Tripod run, and she swatted at him—a very good sign. "That's my cat," I said. I think she'll be great to have in the home, and maybe Tripod will learn to take it easy around Corky; after all, he's made friends with dogs in the past. And Corky only chases him because he runs; if he didn't run, Corky would know better.

And interestingly enough, Fifi likes to go for walks; I don't think I'll ever get to the point where I can take her out with Corky, but apparently having been a feral cat, she longs for the outdoors—in small doses, anyway—so they sometimes take her out on a little harness. Cute!