For one of the most celebrated Jewish holidays, we present a small family gathering that is sadly evocative for 2020. The COVID-19—aka SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—pandemic compels people to socially isolate (e.g. […]
In February 2019, a gent moved from my neighborhood to Arizona, abandoning his two outdoor cats and goldfish. (He did take the dog!) The perennial renter of 17 years left behind a ramshackle residence for his landlord to sell and animals for the real estate agent to dispatch. She should be thanked for taking responsibility for them.
I was quite familiar with the kitties—Lupe and Laramie—which had been profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series. The realtor trapped the pair, and my wife and I helped care for them until the fine folks from Rescue House took them away. For the full saga, please see “Lupe’s Last Day“. Periodically, I checked the RH website, only to be disappointed that nobody had taken them. Eleven months passed before the two would finally be adopted. Together!
Sometimes you get one shot—and with some neighborhood felines none other. Such is the case with the tabby I spotted in the alley between Georgia and Park Blvd. on March 29, 2020. The shorthair moved quickly past as I walked in the other direction, stopping briefly when my iPhone XS appeared. One click later, he (or she) disappeared into a carport. I would be surprised to see the animal again.
Sprint seems appropriate nickname—for the kitty’s quick pace and because the Olympics were on my mind at the time; four days earlier, the 2020 games were postponed a year because of the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—pandemic, which has altered my walk routine. Californians are asked to stay at home (e.g., “shelter in place“) and to go out sparingly; exercise is one approved activity, and I mostly use alleys to avoid other people. Hence, the chance Sprint sighting.
The Featured Image is rather ho-hum by itself but is something much more when given context. Plural perhaps is better: contexts. First: The window is adjacent to another, presumably in the same apartment, where I saw Kip, who was profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series just after the new year. I have seen the kitty several time since and have come to look for him (or her), which is how the fashioned-sign caught my attention.
Second: California, like the majority of US states, is locked down. Most businesses and all schools are closed. Citizens are ordered to stay at home and “shelter in place“. Keeping people apart is a desperate attempt to slow spread (e.g. “flatten the curve“) of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19. That lone—or better stated lonely—”Hi” reaches out from isolation to the few wanderers traversing the seemingly post-apocalyptic street below. Some residents still walk their dogs or go out for fresh air or to exercise.
For Palm Sunday, we present something calm—and it’s needed remedy with, in response to the Novel Coronavirus pandemic, so many people confined to their homes and with most businesses closed country after country. Today won’t be a day of celebration, as Christians must stay apart rather than gather together. Surely, the pangs of many parishioners will be greater come Easter Sunday in a week.
Bo Nielsen captured self-titled “A Beautiful Morning in Dyrehaven-3” on Sept. 30, 2015, using Olympus E-M1 and LUMIX G VARIO 100-300/F4-5.6 lens. The portrait is a keeper for composition, light, and serenity.
I sometimes wonder if assigning a number would be best when an animal’s real name is unknown. Cat 1, or 12, or 149. My made-up choice won’t be right and might even offend the beastie’s owner should he or she see the profile. Setting, or perceived character, often determines my choice, which in this instance is Pebbles. I suppose Woody would work, too. Chipper and Rocky already have been used—moniker and real, respectively—and Stone or Stoner seem inappropriate.
While my wife and I walked up Madison, on March 28, 2020, Pebbles appeared from behind some shrubs, strutting deliberately to a determined destination. We were midway between Cleveland and Maryland on the opposite side of the street; I crossed in time to snag three quick snaps using iPhone XS. Turns out the tabby had some, ah, business to do in the wood chips. I stopped shooting soon as that activity became apparent.
Today, the global number of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), also known as COVID-19, infections topped 1 million and 50,000 deaths. As I write, based on data collated by the Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University: 1,015,709 confirmed cases; 211,615 recovered; 53,069 dead.
One month ago, there were eight reported Novel Coronavirus cases in the United States. This moment, according to John Hopkins: 245,213. The dramatic rise is part increased testing, part exponential community spread of the virus. This USA Today headline, regarding April 1, makes the point better than I could: “More than 1,000 in US die in a single day from Coronavirus, doubling the worst daily death toll of the flu”. That number doesn’t include collateral casualties—people who, being treated for something else, might otherwise have lived if not for overwhelmed hospitals in hot zones like New York.
Walking outdoors is challenging, with so many businesses shut down, and, as such, a large number of San Diegians trying to “shelter in place” but, understandably, going out with their dogs or to grab some fresh air/exercise. The other order for the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), also known as COVID-19, pandemic: “social distancing“, which for the Wilcox family means mostly walking in alleys behind streets, where fewer people go and making space from them is much easier than would be along cramped sidewalks—or even stepping into bike lanes.
Unsurprisingly, I am discovering a fresh batch of indoor kitties looking out onto the alleys. That brings us to the third consecutive feline that is behind window or door and was seen along/behind Alabama Street—sixtieth and forty-ninth, respectively, for the series to date. On March 22, 2020, I spotted the cat on the stretch between Madison and Mission.
The only April Fools today are the people that haven’t come to grips with the new world order—not one made by cultural, military, or political forces but by contagion: SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), also known as COVID-19. The viral infection has shattered economies, driven a wedge between people (so-called “social distancing”), isolated entire nations (government-imposed quarantines), and turned cities into scenes from post-apocalyptic movies.
Based on data collated by the Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University, globally there are 860,181 confirmed cases of the Novel Coronavirus in 180 countries. Only 178,359 people have recovered, while 42,345 are dead. Number of identified infections has increased nearly 10 times, from about 90,300, on March 1, 2020. Currently, in the United States: 189,624—up from 98 during the same time frame.
The Alabama (number forty-eighth) and behind window or door (fifty-ninth) kitty run continues with the second of three—and maybe four. This handsome second-floor looker earns nickname Mustachio, for what should be obvious reason. While first-in-the-set Mercy looked out onto Alabama, this beastie has a view of the alley from an apartment building on the street.
On March 3, 2020, I spotted Mustachio watching workmen renovate a building on the other side of the alley and facing Mississippi. I used iPhone XS to capture the Featured Image at 11:24 a.m. PST. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/781 sec, 52mm (film equivalent).
Now look at him—another victim of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), better known as COVID-19. It’s a sad story of going to Urgent Care without presenting proper symptoms: Dry cough or fever. 😉 […]
As my wife and I walked along Monroe today, a voice called from behind: “Hey, there’s something I have to tell you about Bruce“—not an exact quote but the gist is right. She approached, with her dog leashed and the tabby trotting behind. He was profiled for my “Cats of University Heights” series in May 2017.
Three days ago, someone came pounding frantically on her door, agitated: “Something happened to Bruce”. The tiger tabby likes to hang out and watch the kids at a nearby daycare, and he had stretched out on the sidewalk waiting for them to come outdoors to play. They didn’t, as the place is temporarily closed—along with most other businesses in the city because of state and county orders that everyone should “stay at home” as a means of slowing spread of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), better known as COVID-19.