While walking down Mission, today, I heard constant meowing across the street and wondered: Where? How’s an apartment’s second floor balcony. Closing in, I pleaded with the kitty not to jump. Surely my human talk was gibberish at best.
That said, my approach silenced the shorthair, who cocked its head and posed. Several times—almost like I had been beckoned to come and shoot portraits. Cue the Twilight Zone music for the episode about mind-reading cats.
When seeing this tabby, I assumed that it must be either Defender or Dodger, both of which were photographed within territorial vicinity. But markings are distinctly different. Unfortunately, I couldn’t approach close enough to read name on the tag.
My wife and I encountered the shorthair in the alley separating Campus and North. I shot portraits using iPhone 13 Pro and Leica Q2; the Featured Image comes from the camera. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/80 sec, 28mm; 6:14 p.m. PDT, Sept. 11, 2022.
Look who came to visit as my wife and I walked to Smart & Final today. This friendly fella is the ninety-third putty-tat found along Alabama between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. Nearly six years into the series, I cannot answer why so many kitties are from the one street.
I used iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image and companion. Vitals: f/1.5, ISO 50, 1/1100 sec, 26mm; 10:20 a.m. PDT. The other is same but 1/1079 sec.
Why would anyone own a camera? I ask because of my unexpected experience this evening with Night Mode when shooting iPhone 13 Pro. A day filled with distraction, including an ant attack on our kitties’ food dishes, disrupted my normal walking routine. Around 8:30 p.m. PDT, I slipped out for fresh air and quick jaunt.
Twelve minutes later, along Texas Street, I passed by a cat curled up on steps before a home’s security door. I kept walking, then turned back. The sleeper was quite illuminated, under the porch light, which created possibly satisfying portrait. When I pressed the shutter button, a countdown timer appeared on the screen. That’s new, I thought, not knowing that Night Mode automatically activates and behaves such.
Hurricane Kay brought nominal relief, on Sept. 8, 2022, as it skirted along the Pacific coastline of Baja California and San Diego County. Cloud cover made muggy air and peak temperature of 32.7 Celsius (91 F) more tolerable. My wife and I took advantage, setting out on a mid-morning walk. While trudging down a side alley perpendicular to Mississippi Street, we came upon a mural that I hadn’t seen before.
We had passed by Bark Boulevard, which fronts El Cajon Blvd, often enough. The family-owned business provides doggy daycare and overnight boarding services—hence the name. So I was surprised to see some homage to cats, along the back.
This morning, I saw someone walking a small dog—until my wife corrected: “No, that’s a cat!” Seconds later, a second kitty appeared—the ever-frolicking Mittens, who energetically engaged the other, which welcomed the play.
Retro (real name) is well-acquainted with Mittens, who has grown into quite the stunning shorthair, since joining the series in March 2022. The two often engage through a window, making something special today’s prancing about.
The month ends with a namesake. Not knowing whether she was adopting a male or female kitten, the caretaker chose something gender-neutral—later learning she had a she. For our series, the putty’s portrait languished nearly seven months for the arrival of today, when August could appear in August.
I used iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image on Feb. 3, 2022. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 80, 1/120 sec, 77mm; 12:05 p.m. PST. August is the ninety-first Alabama Street cat between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. She also is the one-hundred-first feline found behind either window or door.
Sometimes the moment passes too quickly. As I walked by her residence on Monroe Street, the owner of Apple came out to walk the dog—one or more of the three cats usually follows along. As we chatted, each feline found a stone upon which to sit. What composition! I pulled around Leica Q2 and knelt down to shoot the Featured Image.
A neighbor looks on Ash, one of the “Cats of University Heights“, who has come for some affection. He isn’t her kitty, but she knows him well. The homeowners, husband and wife, keep a beautiful butterfly garden, about which Monarchs are commonplace. Perhaps you recall the chalked “caterpillar crossing” on their sidewalk, a few months back.
The Featured Image is memorable for timing: Jan. 20, 2020. Days later, China locked down Wuhan to combat what would come to be called SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2) that manifests as disease COVID-19. The photo marks a moment of normalcy before a global response closed businesses and ordered citizens to shelter in place. Who could guess what would be?
In the alley behind Alabama, but clearly living opposite off of Florida, a tabby waited next to a fence on Aug. 16, 2022. She approached and passed, more disturbed by my pulling out iPhone 13 Pro than interested in visiting me. Some kitties are attention-seekers; not this one.
The Featured Image captures the first sighting and the companion going by to the apartment building where she presumably lives. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/255 sec, 77mm; 9:47 a.m. PDT. The other is same but 1/99 sec.
This tabby quite possibly no longer lives in the neighborhood, but its caretaker does—and that’s reason enough to share this long-overlooked putty, which is the one-hundredth presented behind either window or door.
I used Leica Q to capture the Featured Image on April 28, 2018. Vitals, aperture and shutter speed manually set: f/1.7, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, 28mm; 7:11 p.m. PDT, which was 18 minutes before sunset.
A few days ago, I happened upon the owner of Bruce, Guido, and Little as she walked dog Apple—and two of the tabbies trailed along, as they so often do. She had a frightening tale to tell me. The previous week, someone started to relentlessly pound on her apartment door when she, unfortunately, was showering. She got out of the water quick as she could, all while the banging continued nonstop. The front door opened to an anxious neighbor warning something bad happened to Bruce.
He and Guido had been curled up on the property, towards the back nearby the fence. Some guy walking a dog let it get close to the cats. Suddenly, somewhat unsteady being apparently inebriated, he tripped, which lengthened the leash’s reach—allowing the dog to advance on Bruce, grab him by head and shoulder, and thrash him about the way a canine might one of those stupid plush toys.