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. 

There are so many tiger tabbies on the East side of Park Blvd., I struggle to tell one from another—and that complicates profiling them. For now, location is best way to avoid duplications.

On Nov. 17, 2017, at 4:34 p.m. PST, while walking down Florida Street from El Cajon Blvd. towards Meade, I spotted the kitty who earns nickname Tarry—because she clearly waited for someone. The furball looked from ledge to apartment courtyard as if in anticipation of a human going out, or perhaps coming to let her in.