Pablo is our handy man. He does odd jobs around the house. He's a quiet man. And while we've lived in the same house for over 15 years, we have not exchanged more than 100 words to each other. This is because each time I see him and say hello, Pablo grunts back. That's how Pablo is. He's a grunter. He's also a skilled painter and carpenter and a lover of Ginebra Gin.
Pablo has three cats. One has orange hair and is called... you guessed it: Orange. Then there are these two white cats with black spots on them. Identities unknown. In fact, they could be the same cat. I'm not sure.
Orange is a horny sucker. She's been bawling 24/7 the last 3 days. If I were a tomcat I'd do her just to shut her up. Orange does not meow. She bays. Which leads me to think she is half mule half wolf.
The noise Orange makes is non-human (because really, it is). It's this low, guttural moan that gets louder and louder (which would make you think that she was getting some) and then transforms into a rather desperate howl. A cry for help, you could say.
And so tonight, like the last two nights, Orange is at it again. I cannot sleep, and the racket is distracting me from reading the subtitles of my second French movie for the day.
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