The Urban Serengeti

I realize that even in the city we are constantly surrounded by nature, but in the ugliest, most ghetto sense of the word. My building backs up to what is now an empty lot that has become completely overgrown with weeds, turning it into what I refer to as the the Urban Serengeti. It has become a stage for the nightly activities of our local wildlife, and I have a front row seat. When they first razed the crumbling, condemned building back there, I was overjoyed. That is until I realized that all of the creatures living in or underneath it were now scattering to the surrounding buildings as fast as bugs running from an upturned rock. Whichever creatures didn't run are now enjoying themselves back there.

Last night I really got my money's worth. I was woken up around 3:30am by the sounds of local felines having their way with one another. I learned how to recognize this sound from a few nights spent in Seville, a city where one can go to sleep pretty much anywhere and be serenaded all night long by an out of tune wailing chorus of cat fuckery. If you've never experienced the joy, the sound is similar to a small child crying very loudly...but if they were possessed by Satan. I heard it's because male cat penises are spiked. In addition to the cats outside, I have my two cats inside, and most recently a new colony of mice living in the walls. I can't help but start to feel a little nuts after a few nights of being woken up by all of these things at the same time. Topping off the sounds of the Ghetto National Geographic Special is an encore of old gas radiators that fill my tiny apartment with the sounds of a thousand snakes hissing. If I could have recorded last night's orchestral offerings, it would be priceless.

I figured it would be good to have cats in here to kill mice, as some of my friends do. Alas, mine are just sheltered beyond the point of uselessness and either run the other way or stare blankly at the wall where the noise is coming from. I've never seen them actually kill anything living, which I justify as their choosing to be pacifists. This warms my cockles a bit, though the truth is that they just suck at being cats. It's not their fault though. We're all just products of our environment. My cats wouldn't survive a day outside, just as I wouldn't survive in the real Serengheti. Sometimes I don't even know if I can survive in the urban one. It's scary out there, and once in awhile I'll wake up and hide halfway under the covers, timidly peering out the window convincing myself to get the hell up already. We have our own versions of wild animals...the crazy person defecating on the D train, or just right on 14th street (I don't make this stuff up), the drunk boys heckling my friend and I at the bar last night, or gutter punks asking for money, though they typically ask very politely. They just sometimes resemble wild animals when they travel in packs.

Hopefully, tonight will be quieter. I need a good sleep as tomorrow will be spent attending jury duty bright and early. I was told to just answer their questions honestly, but if I tell them that I'm too tired because the cats were having sex they might deem me to be a bit of a nutter. It's not my fault though...we're all just products of our environment.