On Dec. 19, 2017, as my wife and I walked down Adams Ave., from Park Blvd. towards Georgia, she spotted movement a few doors down from Sunshine‘s place. A lanky, tuxedo cautiously navigated its way from property to property.

As previously expressed, that’s a dangerous area for person or beast. The intersection behind leads into a business district of bars, where too many people impatiently drive searching for parking. The cat meandered a safe path far back from the sidewalk, along buildings, through hedges, and across driveways. 

If this series had a motto—or perhaps, better stated, an unbreakable rule—it would be: “One cat, one time”. Each furball is profiled once. The problem: Sometimes there is uncertainty, and occasionally I will chance repeats. Hanoi and Bell may be one in the same, although I put the odds of not at 70-30. I am less confident about Betty and Betty Too or Stalker and Twilight. Odds are more like fifty-fifty, with proximity of sightings majorly causing uncertainty. In preparing this post, and reexamining photos, I see a common curvature to the two Bettys’ tails that increases the likelihood of a goof.

That introduction brings us to Laramie (his real name) and my big question: Is he the same feline as the one nicknamed Spry, whom my wife and I observed in the alley behind Alabama on June 13, 2017? Out on the street-side of the same block, where also Smokey and Monkey live, resides another ravishing grey; his housemate will be the next kitty to join the series. The cats were seen so close, could be. (Addendum, Aug. 13, 2020: I spotted Spry today in the same alley nearby the original sighting; definitely two different cats, seeing as how Laramie has a new home elsewhere.)

Dec. 10, 2017, as I walked down Louisiana, a handsome orange tabby presented himself—somewhere between Madison and Monroe, perhaps beyond. I thought at first that he might be a similarly colored cat spotted on the same street seven months ago. But on close inspection, differences are clear enough, and the animals displayed different temperament: One was friendly, the other standoffish.

I nickname this husky, handsome shorthair: Brawn. We never got close. I shot the Featured Image, which is cropped about 100 percent, using iPhone X. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/216 sec, 6mm; 2:47 p.m. PST.

Along Alabama Street—on the same block where live Goldie, Itchy Valentino, Mr. Kitty, and Anthony—there plays a lovely feline that I started watching closely last month. The first photographs were okay, but not great. I returned repeatedly, hoping for a better set and to discover the animal’s name. I got the first, on Dec. 3, 2017, but not the second.

I dubbed the shorthair: Frolic, for how quickly she gets around (On Feb. 19, 2018, I met the owner and learned her real name: Willow). The cat is energetic and playful; I wish she would spend less time on the side of the street and meandering around parked cars. The Featured Image, shot with iPhone X, is first in a series leading up to the big portrait. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/120 sec, 6mm; 11:59 a.m. PST. 

Few neighborhood intersections could be more dangerous to people, or to animals, than where Adams Ave. and Park Blvd meet. So I was surprised to discover a kitty nearby there on Dec. 5, 2017. As my wife and I walked by, I heard meowing—then stopped and stepped back to see a long-hair tortoiseshell rustling before a closed door to be let in. I pulled out iPhone X and knelt down to take some quick photos; she scurried to us across the walkway to the sidewalk seeking pats and attention.

I nickname the feline Sunshine, for being such a ray of delight; she also reminds me of our Cali. The cat moved around so much, and in contrasting areas of shade and light, that capturing good portraits proved challenging. 

I sometimes wonder what people think about me strolling around the neighborhood and peering into people’s yards—looking for cats, of course. Recently, while chatting with the cashier at Healthy Heights Pets Market, other customers came in and I decided best to excuse myself and let her serve them. We had a good conversation about journalism and writing; she offered her name, as did I. One of the other shoppers said, referring to me: “The photographer”. Yikes! Recognized and categorized.

Yesterday afternoon, while walking along Mississippi Street towards Mission, I spied a pretty kitty sitting on grass behind a white picket fence. I pulled out iPhone X and snapped a shot from standing, approaching position—in case he scattered, which will happen depending on the furball’s temperament. I crouched down to shoot through the fence. Then a SUV horn bellowed behind me. I had stepped backward into the driveway, just as someone else wanted to pull in. Apologizing, I scooted out of the way and continued capturing portraits. Deliberate decision was made to hang around: Perhaps the person could tell me the animal’s name. 

For the second consecutive day, I saw a cat on the same block along Mississippi Street—beyond Howard. The first, Peohe, is a big, black, friendly fluffball. The other is Panda (yes, her real name). She so reminds me of Luna, whom my wife and I would see in the yard of a house on North Avenue., near where it meets Meade. She disappeared 18 months or so ago, and I was sorry to never have taken her portrait. Panda is as close as this series will get to her.

I used iPhone X to capture the Featured Image and its companion, yesterday. I got down on one knee and shot through the openings between the property-fence’s slats. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 40, .97 ev, 1/60 sec, 6mm; 4:25 p.m. PST. Other is the same, except for ISO 32. 

Near the neighborhood’s southern boundary, I made a new feline friend, while learning a valuable lesson about identification. Yesterday, as I walked home from Smart & Final, along Mississippi Street, I spotted a kitty nestled beside a porch. Seemingly glowing eyes glared back against black mat in the distance. As I stooped low to capture a photo using iPhone X, the beastie trotted across the driveway to the sidewalk. From the name on the collar, I had just made acquaintance with Daisy.

She rolled around on the cement, relishing pats and marking scent on my hands and legs with her head. Not long later, the cat’s master came home—and, of course, the animal would step into the driveway in front of the vehicle. Behind the wheel, the woman explained that this frequently happens; toot of the horn scooted Daisy to safety.