The series‘ four-hundred-seventieth profile takes us back inside. This sweet sleeper is the eighty-seventh feline found behind door or window. I used iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image on Jan. 17, 2022. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/2016 sec, 77mm; 12:53 p.m. PST.
For fur color and texture, this slumber-puss earns nickname Creamy.
On this day in 2012, my wife and I brought home the ginger that the County of San Diego Animal Services called Dermott. We renamed him Neko, which is Japanese for cat. The shelter took him in on February 15. We would have first seen him on either the 18th or 25th; I don’t recall which but am confident a Saturday. Because he was so handsome, we were surprised to see him on subsequent visits.
Our Maine Coon mix, Kuma, disappeared on January 15. After city workers recovered his collar in a nearby canyon, we had to assume that a coyote took him. But being ever hopeful not, I checked the shelter website most evenings and we walked through the facility every few days looking. All the while, Dermott remained unclaimed, and we soon learned why.
To clear out the backlog of unpublished kitties, we’re bunching them up (third this week). I have held back several with collars and tags hoping to get their real names. But a time comes, when there has been no close encounter, to choose a moniker and add the beastie to the series.
This handsome tabby is one of several seen mulling about the same cottage complex along Louisiana. Those profiled so far, and there are more: Cuddles, Honcho, Saunter, and Squeaky.
When the Wilcoxes moved to this neighborhood in mid-October 2007, we encountered two obvious demographics: Older couples (and some singles)—many of whom lived in the same house for decades; gay couples—women more than men (who were more commonly seen in adjacent community Hillcrest). But as the real estate market bottomed out in 2011-12, a slow change blossomed into a flash flood of families with kids of age to attend Alice Birney Elementary.
But during the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns, when many people started working from home and therefore no longer needed to live close to their jobs, University Heights began a rapid demographic flip. Ultra-high rents and landlords selling homes along with a massive influx of Googler-types has flushed out families and many of the oldsters. The professional Millennial makeover sweeps in and sweeps others out. Among those leaving: Owners of the kitty in the Featured Image.
Along the same apartment complex knoll where appears Bleu, I sometime see another feline—either alone or nearby. Since the nickname for one is translated from English to French, let’s do the same with the other; Noire, which is the feminine, for black.
I assume, and possibly wrongly, that Noire is not only female but mother to the Kittens discovered in the connecting property. Resemblance is unmistakable, which doesn’t make my presumption right.
Squinting may be necessary to make out this fine feline, which might be, uh-oh, a Russian Blue. Based on current social norms of conformance, businesses (or other entities) and individuals must boycott all things from Russia because of the country’s invasion into Ukraine. Being a devout nonconformist, I won’t penalize a cat for its breed.
Mock me if you like on the social media service of your choosing. I won’t see the post. What’s that quandary question: If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears does it make a sound? Similarly, if you post angrily about me and I don’t see does it matter? No. Go ahead, wriggle your grimy fingers on physical or screen keypad.
On two mornings in January 2022, the sound of a little girl giggling and flashes of her chasing something turned my attention along Alabama. The youngster was with other kids and adults, preparing to walk to Alice Birney Elementary. Object of her interest: A tiger tabby kitten.
On the Eleventh, I happened upon the frisky feline frolicking about. She scampered long enough for several portraits, including the Featured Image—all taken using iPhone Pro 13. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/369 sec, 77mm; 8:47 a.m. PST.
Heavy rains stormed through San Diego on the evening of Feb. 15, 2022, when a friendly but apparently stray tabby invited himself into the house where he had visited over several weeks. The family chose to keep him inside that evening, because of the ferocious weather. Next morning, the husband pulled over his car when seeing me to ask about the cat, which meowed from inside a carrier. The gent knew that I photographed local animals and wondered if I knew anything about this kitty. Damn, no.
Because the cat limped, my neighbor chose to take the feline for a microchip scan and maybe medical treatment. He was reluctant to leave a possible pet at the animal shelter. As we chatted, he decided to first go to a local veterinarian, see whether the tabby was chipped, and if so get it to the owner. What transpired next surprised and inspires, but there’s a postscript drama not directly related but possibly impacting shelter policy.
When this series started on Oct. 17, 2016, I expected to end it within 30 days. Because: How many cats could there be in a neighborhood where leashed-walked dogs are everywhere? The 24th entry, which I call Cozy, posted less than a month later.
Fast-forward to Dec. 29, 2021, when I spotted what could be the same animal but inside the home rather than casually reclining outdoors. But I am not 100 percent sure they are the same animal. The owners are known to have two kitties, but I don’t know if both are tiger-stripped. So after months of uncertainty, I make a decision and take the chance there are two somewhat alike (such as from same litter) and that this one isn’t the other. Fur length and head shape could be different enough.
I stopped long enough to shoot photos of this fine feline to draw out the homeowner. Uh-oh. Fortunately, he was friendly; someone else might have been irked. Turns out that the beastie isn’t his and he doesn’t know to whom the animal belongs. But the cat comes frequently by the Georgia street property, nevertheless, and that suits his kids I guess. Why wouldn’t it?
While the captures from Leica Q2 are better, the Featured Image comes from iPhone 13 Pro because the kitty turned away from the camera but posed for the smartphone. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/234 sec, 77mm; 12:55 p.m. PST, Feb. 3, 2022.
Ten days have passed since the last profile, which is way too many considering the backlog of unpublished kitties. Meet the eighty-fifth feline found behind door or window, not far from the Cleveland Ave. overlook. The Featured Image, taken using iPhone 13 Pro, is from Jan. 29, 2022—but I have seen Solemn (yes, a nickname) in the same spot as recently as day before yesterday. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 40, 1/122 sec, 77mm; 10:38 a.m. PST.
Typically, cats sit in closed windows to sun. But this vantage is shaded and stuffy. What I see is a tiger tabby looking out longingly, solemnly.
After the August 2021 clearcutting of their backyard habit and sale of the property two months later, I assumed that kitties Mimi and daughter Sweet Pea would make their home elsewhere—particularly in the outdoor space provided by the woman who cared for them. But as grass, plants, shrubs, and trees regrew, the Maine Coons clung to the territory where they had lived for the better part of a decade. Mimi unexpectedly posed for me on Jan. 2, 2022. Vitals for the Featured Image, captured using iPhone 13 Pro: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/126 sec, 77mm; 11:17 a.m. PST.
I saw one or the other longhair in the yard several times a week, last month; now, likely no longer. Looks like the new owners won’t raise the house to build a massive multi-unit structure on the massive lot—increasingly commonplace for San Diego real estate. Instead, renovation is underway, and it is structurally extensive. Debris and building materials currently occupy portions of the backyard where roamed the cats. The foundation is being massively reconstructed, which surely is sign the house will remain.