Fifí is standing on what's left of three beautiful, insulated and waterproof little houses built by the sweetest man a few years ago. As you can see, the place has not just been upturned, like when dogs get in and drink all the water and dig up the soil, but they've actually taken time and energy to smash it all to bits. And they unscrewed the waterbottle and poured everything out - not just threw it away because then it'd still be half full, but actually poured the water out.
Here's one of the other houses, that still has one somewhat intact wall:
And just now, one of the other ladies rang to say she found two dead cats; whether they perished in the assault and I just didn't find them, or that happened after I left this morning, I don't know. Because cats have been found beaten to death before, and the police have been notified. Not that I expect anything to be done about that.
I hope, I really really do - and I've got no qualms about it whatsoever - that this person is religious, and catholic (and since we're in Spain, the odds aren't against me on that one) because then you, and all your likes, will either going to hell, or die very alone and very disappointed.
But before you go, may your home be forever infested with sandfleas.