During the last couple of months, I've been woken up off and on at 5 o'clock in the morn by strange animal cries. At first, I thought it was some inconsiderate butthead neighbor who was crating their crying newborn puppy on their balcony . . . probably because its cries were making them slowly losing their mind. But then I searched my neighbors' balconies for said pup and couldn't find anything.
So I let it go and assumed that it was a baby squirrel or something.
Until one morning I woke up (again around 5 a.m.) and swore the mysterious animal was on my balcony. I was half-expecting to find the animal standing at our sliding glass door demanding, UM. I'VE BEEN CRYING FOR DAYS OUT HERE. NOW GO GET ME SOME WATER AND FOOD.
Of course, I didn't find any such thing and went back to bed. Now here's where it gets worse.
B and I started smelling something foul. I checked the garbage disposal. Clean. Took out the trash. Smell still there. Cleaned out Raisin's litter box. Yep. Smell intact. We finally considered that whatever had been crying for days possibly died and now was funking up our apartment. So B talked to the maintenance crew, who promptly went up to the attic space of our section of the building to hunt this thing out.
Minutes later, they were knocking on our door. "We couldn't find anything ma'am, but we went ahead and doused the entire area with bleach to get rid of any smells." Ummmmm, thanks? But, but, but what about any animals who might be nesting up there??? They're as good as dead now, I guess. Thanks guys!
Needless to say, the animal cries resumed a few days later. And then I figured it out. While out on my balcony one evening, drinking shiraz and talking to my friend, I noticed three little tree frogs that had become quite happy in my Elephant Ear and Christmas Cactus. How cute, I thought . . . until they started croaking. MYSTERY SOLVED. The monstrous noises were coming from these tiny frogs. Now, this obviously wasn't the first time I've heard a frog croak, being from the deep South and all, but I guess tree frogs sing to a different tune. It was bizarre. But I grew quite fond of the little dudes, after I had a little talk with them about keeping the noise down, of course.
And then Raisin had to go and attack one and sever its leg. She was proud; I felt bad. I tried to help by putting the frog back into the Christmas Cactus. I thought he was going to die for sure, but oh no. The fighter showed up a week later, one leg missing. Ouch.
Raisin's still ticked that I wouldn't let her finish him off. And she's been banned from the balcony, unless accompanied by a supervisor. She's gotta' learn: no more frog legs for dinner.