We often turn on our fan when we're home to foil the mosquitos, but for the past few days we've been tuning it on to drown our our neighbor's new Rod Stewart cd. They often play classic rock while they work in their haunted back room, but Rod Stewart is unsafe at any volume.

And I thought the Celine Dion the workmen next door listen to was bad.

In small furry animal news ... Greg was unable to resist, and has been absorbed into the Body. All hail Landru.

And this is my guess as to the still-unnamed kitten's brief history. It's not feral, and is quite used to being handled. It does not like the kids next door; whenever they come over to ooh and aah over it, and cart it around a bit, the kitten gets angry. It doesn't take it out on the kids, but waits until it's back with me. At some point in its young life its tail was broken. It was completely healed up when I brought it home, but the kitten's tail is L-shaped. So I think that while it was being handled by young kids its tail got broken, the family never had it set properly, and couldn't give away a kitten with an L-shaped tail, so after the rest of the litter was gone Dad took the unwanted kitten and chucked it in the dirt lot behind the Hombre de Papel newsstand. Or maybe he was aiming for the river and missed, which would make him an asshole and a poor shot. I first heard it crying Wednesday morning (I thought it was a bird), fed it Wednesday night, and scooped it up Thursday morning. I'm surprised it lasted that long, what with all the stray dogs in this city.

Since the kitten can't talk more than baby-talk, all I can do is guess, but I'd say I'm pretty close to the mark.