Their cries filled the car. Going from pitiful sobs, begging for mercy, to whimpering and then urgent cries of protest. When that didn’t improve their lot, they cried in indignation and then in full blown anger. “You think we are helpless?” those screams seemed to say. “We’ll show you! We have some tricks up our sleeves too.”

Ai iz takinz a joy ridez. This be the only joy ridez ai likez.

It was relentless. Without pause. When one piped down to draw breath, the other would keep the tempo going. Mid-way through, their howls became ominous. And then there was a sudden silence. To be broken a few seconds later by the sound of newspaper being mercilessly tortured. And then the smell of fresh cat poop assailed our nostrils.

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