The Wilcox family lived nearly 10 years in our old apartment, located in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. Except briefly for one or two bad rain storms, the small window by the front door stayed […]
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The Wilcox family lived nearly 10 years in our old apartment, located in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. Except briefly for one or two bad rain storms, the small window by the front door stayed […]
I strongly debated whether or not to include this kitty, who looked onto the alley separating Louisiana and Mississippi between El Cajon and Meade. But lighting was optimal on the grey’s perch and unlikely to ever be better; the Featured Image is about as good as I’ll ever get. And the face is so damn cute, this sweetie could be a stuffed animal. Hence, nickname Plush. You will want to click through and enlarge the photo; sometimes not-so-good portraiture is good enough because the subject is so becoming.
Plush is the series‘ seventieth cat sitting behind door or window. The cropped, and aggressively edited, portrait comes from Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/640 sec, 28mm, 9:27 a.m. PDT, June 14, 2021.
Along several streets on the East side of Park Blvd., a neighbor has posted photo and description of a skinny—observably emaciated—grey female wearing a collar and bell. The person hopes to catch the presumably lost, or abandoned, kitty and take her to the animal shelter or vet for microchip scan that might identify—and possibly help locate—the owner(s).
So, as the sun started sinking below the horizon, I moseyed over for a late-day walk—during what is typically an active time for cats. I passed Reddy sitting in front of his new, self-adopted home on Georgia. Moments earlier, I came upon a tan-and-white shorthair between Meade and Mission. My raising Leica Q2 to shoot put the animal in trepidation stance. The Featured Image is the first of three taken and the only one usable. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2.8, ISO 500, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 7:47 p.m. PDT.
And I am so glad this bird isn’t a raven (gulp, unless I misidentified, which easily could be). I’ve been humming Stevie Wonder song “Superstition” since the sighting earlier today and only while writing made the subconscious mental connection: Ravens as forebears of bad luck, or worse. But I’m not really superstitious—or wouldn’t be if not for the odd encounter.
While walking along Madison, approaching the alley between North and Campus in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights, the flyer landed on a fence beside me. He seemed to want something, and I wondered if perhaps people feed him. Of course, the encounter could have been, uh-hum, an omen. The bird perched long enough for me to step back, pull out Leica Q2, and compose two shots (changing aperture between) before flying off.
This fine feline reminds me so much of our lost Kuma that I spent the better part of an hour comparing photos. Resemblance there is, but nothing more. Our part Maine Coon disappeared on Jan. 15, 2012, and we believe that a coyote got him because city workers found his collar in a nearby canyon fifteen days later.
My daughter chose Kuma, which means bear in Japanese. Hence my choice of nickname for his doppelgänger. On May 22, 2021, as my wife and I crossed Madison moving South along Mississippi, Bear moved just enough behind glass to catch my attention. While the late-afternoon sun illuminated the cat well enough for a portrait, he sat back to me. So Annie and I continued walking, then I stopped and reversed direction for a photo. But he still faced inward, so I started away—then one-eightied once more. As I momentarily stood, iPhone XS ready, Bear turned—and posed! I gulped and wondered: Does he recognize me? Is that Kuma?
Temperature rose to 25 degrees Celsius (77 F) today in San Diego. As we walked about during early afternoon, I suggested going along Louisiana and perhaps sighting some kitties lounging about. My wife smartly observed that any sensible animal would be sleeping during the heat of the day. But as we crossed Mission moving towards Monroe, cries of something stirred our eardrums. “Are those babies?” Annie asked. Nope. They were felines fiercely yowling, practically nose to nose.
I immediately recognized the animals: Ash and Bandit, both of which were profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series. Annie and I were on the opposite side of the street; capturing the Featured Image meant crossing part ways and shooting without disturbing the already disturbed beasts. In the two minutes that we observed, and I photographed, them, the two males maintained a stand off. If their territorial dispute ended in a fight, we didn’t witness it. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 200, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 1:50 p.m. PDT.
Ah, how does one properly describe the feeling of shock and awe when looking back at old photos—and realizing just how terrible they are? The haughty is humbled, and I wonder that my earlier days shooting digital, in this instant Canon’s original Rebel, could produce such a collection so unpleasingly composed, and poorly exposed and/or focused. The Featured Image and its companion are among the better backyard moments from the hundreds of older pics reviewed this evening. Their main value to me is sentiment.
During our family’s Maryland days, before unwisely relocating to California in October 2007, our other rabbit occasionally romped around the backyard (Daisy was the other, and, oh, how she was loved). I guess we were way ahead with the gender re-identification and change-the-pronouns social trend. “I identify as a female” would be what Mayflower would say if able to do more than squeak. She was born a he, but we didn’t know that at the time of naming. So him became her. Vitals for his—or is that her or their—portrait: f/5.6, ISO 125, 1/60 sec, 55mm; 11:27 a.m. EST, Nov. 16, 2005.
Feline identification can be tricky. I would under any other circumstance state with certainty that this kitty is Guido, who lives a half-block down, across the street, and around the corner with Bruce and Little. I spent better part of an hour comparing his photos to those of this tabby—and the shorthairs sure look alike to me. Except they cannot be. I frequently see the tiger-stripe where she is supposed to be—romping outside the home that she shares with Annie. If I really have confused them, some day a new portrait will replace this one.
Jasmine, who is about four years old, is the sixty-seventh cat from Alabama Street between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. That works out to 16.5 percent of the series‘ 406 profiles. I am baffled about why so many. Numbers creep up for Louisiana and Madison, but they lag far behind—and there are at least three other putty-tats on Jasmine’s block of which I am aware (seen briefly while trying over several weeks to get a good shot of her).
While walking with my wife along Mission Ave. between Alabama and Mississippi, on May 12, 2021, I spotted a black bird-watching from the semi-seclusion of a home’s attached planter. I shot several portraits using iPhone XS and Leica Q2, and the Featured Image comes from the camera. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 12:51 p.m. PDT.
Call me befuddled trying to come up with yet another nickname appropriate for a Halloween Cat. Let’s go with Joy, because the shorthair seemed so content where it relaxed and observed.
What the whiskers? In the same second-floor window where I saw yesterday’s grey tiger-stripe, Suave, today an orange tabby looked out. Am I being gaslighted by frisky felines? If not for photographic evidence that the two are similar-looking but different colors, maybe would be the answer.
I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/400 sec, 28mm; 9:53 a.m. PDT. The sixty-eighth cat behind door or window and the sixty-sixth seen along Alabama Street earns nickname Smooth. Think smooth operator for the tomfoolery.
The sixty-seventh feline found behind window or door is also the sixty-fifth Alabama Street cat—looking out from a second floor apartment located between El Cajon and Meade. I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, yesterday. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/320 sec, 28mm; 9:15 a.m. PDT.
The tabby earns nickname Suave, for poise, posture, and presence.
On April 17, 2021, as my wife and I walked westward along Meade, approaching North, an orange tabby moved up the steps and onto the porch of the property where lives Captain Blackbeard. The cat door that lets Blackie come and go responds to his microchip. The interloper could make no unwanted entrance. As we drew near, the kitty, earning nickname Tango, skirted under a parked car in the driveway—where I captured the Featured Image using Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2.8, ISO 100, 1/2500 sec, 28mm; 10:51 a.m. PDT.
Among the edits, done in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic, I reduced the intensity of green in the grass, which otherwise distracted from Tango rather than color-complemented his fur coat.