Survival of the fittest

It might as well have been a battle between King Kong and Godzilla, both destructive and fierce. Only the location wasn't New York; it was my condominium. And Katie, my soon-to-be ex-cat, played King Kong.

The steamy evening started peacefully enough. I headed to my fourth-story patio and opened the sliding glass doors to let a warm breeze usher forth. I thought of Max, who had traveled this week to the West coast. I missed him. Ordinarily, I'd be mixing drinks at that very moment, recapping the day's events or contemplating our upcoming Hawaiian vacation. Ah, yes--Hawaii.

"Just two days to go," I thought to myself with the broadest of grins. "Two days to go..."

Lost in my daydreams-- sights of dazzling sunsets and sweet smells of papayas, pineapple, and mango--I hadn't noticed that Katie had made her way out to the patio. When I finally did notice, she was running around wildly. I'd never seen her playful.

"How cute!"

But moments later, her cuteness turned into the positively terrifying. She ran back inside on the heels of a little, green frog, desperately trying to escape Katie's de-clawed paws.

"EEEEEEEEEEK!!!" I shriek better than any Fay Wray ever could. I don't do Animal Planet on television, and I certainly wasn't having it in my house.

As Katie and the frog played their little game of cat and mouse, I looked on in absolute terror. What was I going to do? I was not about to touch the frog. It might be poisonous. I might get warts. I just had a manicure.

Their battle took them to my bookcase, which mostly houses photographs and an assortment of vases and pottery. Framed photos came crashing down as Kate trampled over everything in her path. Miraculously, the frog eluded her in the increasingly difficult obstacle course.

I would have felt admiration for the little creature, if I hadn't been in such a panic. Where was Max when I needed him? How dare he leave for California!

In a moment of genius, the frog hopped underneath the bookcase, amidst the wreckage that had once been tastefully-arranged accessories. Try as she might, Katie could not get her paws under the bookcase and at the frog. It was a stalemate.

I used the few quiet moments to place a call to my hero. I interrupted his business dinner.

"Max, you have to come home, right now. There is a frog in the house," I screeched.

"What?"

"Katie chased a frog into the house. I don't know what to do," I repeated myself, increasingly annoyed by my boyfriend's lack of superhuman intuition.

I heard a chuckle on the other end of the phone.

"It's not funny. I don't know what to do. A FROG IS IN MY HOUSE AND UNDER MY BOOKCASE!!!!!!"

Why wasn't Max getting the seriousness of this situation? Did I really have to spell it out for him?

"Sweetie, if you're too afraid to scoop the frog up and take it outside, why not just take Katie out and shut the door. I'll get the frog tomorrow, ok?" His calmness and patronizing only annoyed me even more.

"It won't mess on my carpets?" I don't know a thing about frogs other than the obvious--if you kiss them they turn into a prince.

My prince offered his last bit of advice, getting me off the phone as quickly as possible.

"Sweetie, I'm in a meeting. I'll call you later." Fay Wray was stranded with her pea-size versions of Godzilla and King Kong. What was I going to do?

Rather than take Max's advice, I opted to leave Katie and her green little adversary alone on the top floor of my condo. I locked myself away in the 3rd-floor bedroom.

As the night went on, I heard more pouncing and crashing. Curiosity wasn't getting the best of me, however. Katie and the frog would have to battle this out for themselves. It was a Darwinian game of survival of the fittest between two worthy adversaries.

And may the best creature win.