Urban Jungle

We've gotten used to lots of things since we've moved to the inner city.
Gun shots next door, gang graffiti, liquor bottles lining the curbs on a Saturday morning


We've had our fair share of dangerous and creepy animal encounters here in the urban jungle as well - a raccoon shut in our van overnight caused more than $5oo of damage, a rabid raccoon in the yard had to be captured and removed by animal control, a nest of garter snakes hatched in a hole near the foundation of our house, and cicada killer wasps set up house last summer by the patio. We even had to evict a colony of bats from our attic.
Then of course there are all the dogs allowed to run free - German Shepherds, Pit Bulls, and just plain scary curs.



But I never expected to encounter wild cats lurking in the treetops, making a nice relaxing bath a thing of the past.


Floyd, the big orange guy, has a thing for water.
He loves it!
Every morning I waken to find him sleeping in the bathtub.
If I forget to check the shower before turning on the water, out saunters a damp and bedraggled Floyd, wet but not at all upset about it.



He likes to tiptoe around the edge of the tub while I'm bathing. If I'm not careful, he'll end up precariously balancing on my knees; a truly frightening experience as Floyd is not declawed.



Henry apparently shares Floyd's love of water, but with an added dash of kitten adventure thrown in.


Henry is a spitfire who doesn't take kindly to anyone flouting his desires.


He has claws and teeth and he's not afraid to use them!



There's nothing quite like trying to safely remove a sodden four-pound whirling dervish of teeth and claws after a splash-down.
I suppose I could just close the bathroom door, but then, where's the adventure in that?
Besides, then everyone sits outside the door and cries.
And I have the same reaction to cat's crying as I do to babies.
Let's just say it's not at all relaxing.