Where do all these Alabama animals come from? Meet Delilah, the seventy-second kitty profiled from the street since the series started in October 2016. I happened upon a friendly couple leash-walking Delilah and her brother Ozzie on Sept. 5, 2021. Across the way lives Samba, who gets similarly supervised jaunts.
I used iPhone XS to capture the Featured Image. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/266 sec, 52mm; 9:24 a.m. PDT.
During the same walk that I photographed Crepe Myrtle blossoms, on Aug. 25, 2021, a seemingly patriotic-painted utility box caught my attention at 54th and El Cajon Blvd. While I used iPhone XS to make several shots, a gentlemen coming down the sidewalk asked about my interest in the thing—surprised and maybe a bit amused. Easy explanation: Walking home from the dentist, I saw something interesting.
As I separated from him at brisk pace, because my wife waited for me several blocks farther along, he politely yelled: “Welcome to my neighborhood!” I turned back and thanked him with wave and smile. If only more people in San Diego were so friendly.
Honestly, if not for the storytelling value, you would not be looking at the homage to narcissism that is the Featured Image. While walking in the San Diego neighborhood of University Heights on Sept. 6, 2021, my wife spotted something in the middle of the intersection at Georgia and Meade. She fetched what turned out to be a mounted print laying face down on the asphalt. Somewhat shocked by the strangeness of the find, she set the abandoned art against a utility poll, pulled out iPhone XS, and snapped a photo. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 25, 1/530 sec, 26mm; 6:13 p.m. PDT.
I find the thing to be rather repulsive. Near as I can understand from standard web searching, the print is “Armed Forces” from the Hat Series by Chinese painter Yue Minjun. His works depict himself—so, yeah, he is each of the seven smiling weirdos that you see. There’s something oh-so unsettling and insanely appropriate about his style at a time when social media and smartphones propagate narcissists like mold in the damp walls of a leaky house.
I am sentimental abut the animals appearing in my “Cats of University Heights” series and feel fondness for their owners when privileged enough to meet them. Two days ago, after photographing the Alfa Romeo parked on Lincoln, I walked by a house where lives a handsome Tuxedo who was profiled in October 2019. Where’s Kitty? I asked myself, strangely not seeing him sunning on the sidewalk or sleeping on his couch on the porch. This afternoon, I ambled past and saw something startling where he might normally be: On a box a homemade sign stating that “Kitty is missing! Have you seen him?” Oh, how I wish.
His owner is a delightful woman in her Seventies who lives in the house her grandmother bought about a hundred years ago. Generational homes are an increasing rarity—as are people who grew up in the neighborhood. She used to play in the canyons and graduated from San Diego High School. The lady is a gem and kitty was her treasure. I will update this post after speaking with her sometime soon. She’s in my heart tonight.
When first seeing this Tortoiseshell, I thought perhaps Dancer reappeared after long absence. But when the cat changed hiding spots, I could see that she is another kitty—and one quite timid by comparison. She might even be feral.
The Featured Image is the best of a half-dozen shots, all taken with iPhone XS on March 16, 2021. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/235 sec, 52mm; 11:46 a.m. PDT. The fearful feline earns nickname Grit, because I had to use it. I misidentified Burglar as two separate cats and the new Grit replaces the other in the series‘ queue.
About a month ago, I heard some commotion a few streets away and a woman yelling loudly to someone else: “It’s a coyote!” The location is far enough away from a canyon to be surprising. Over the weeks that followed, my wife observed occasional Nextdoor posts about additional sightings—mainly between Alabama and Louisiana either along Madison or Mission.
This morning, as Annie and I walked on Louisiana approaching Mission, she spotted a coyote strutting down the sidewalk on the other side of Madison moving towards Adams. We followed. The animal’s left rear leg was clearly injured, and the skinny beast hobbled on the other three. When she first saw the coyote, it was under the magnificent tree that I shared with you in June 2021.
Dentist day is an opportunity to walk home—8.5 kilometers (5.3 miles)—from College Area to University Heights. My wife dropped me and then drove into Mission Valley for some errands. With no cavities, and quick cleaning, I started pounding the pavement within 30 minutes after arriving at the office.
On El Cajon Blvd, approaching 58th Street, I spotted a crimson-colored flowery-plant standing alone along the sidewalk. So out of place in the urban sprawl of retail, traffic, and wayward homeless, the thing demanded being photographed. Before leaving our place, I strongly considered carrying my camera to the dentist but refrained. So iPhone XS produced the Featured Image and companion, instead.
If only SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 eviction moratoriums applied to feral felines, the habitat of Mimi and Sweet Pea would not have been utterly destroyed. The luscious, and humungous, yard they shared was intact a few days ago—my wife and I can’t recall if Tuesday or Wednesday (today is the only Friday the 13th of the year). This morning, we peaked in—shocked to see nearly complete clearcutting.
The saga starts as we walked along the alley separating Alabama and Florida. As we moved down the block between Monroe and Madison, I saw a kitty beyond the cross street going towards Adams. From the coloration, and our recently seeing Pace (pronounced paw-chay, according to his owner) in the vicinity, I assumed it must be the aged Norwegian Forest Cat. Oddly, though, the animal disappeared and reappeared, as if going into and out of different backyards along the alley.
I know our daughter feels fairly disheveled on this 27th birthday—kind of like the Featured Image of the cat that we unexpectedly inherited from her in October 2014. I met Cali on June 4 of that year—the evening before she showed up in Molly’s bed. Now Cali is bonded to Neko, but her origin story will always be our recuperating birthday girl.
In the portrait, captured using iPhone XS, Cali sun-sleeps against my home office window on the Katris blocks that sit between the Belham Living Everett Mission Writing Desk with Optional Hutch and Casabelle Mail Center. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/142 sec, 52mm (film equivalent); 3:16 p.m. PDT, June 19, 2021.
Late yesterday afternoon, my wife and I walked down the alley separating Louisiana and Texas, where Darth Mew and Princess Leia appeared recently. We hoped to encounter one or the other and expected neither. About half-way down the block, I spotted a pretty Tortoiseshell behind a screen and stopped for a few portraits. Right then, the 87-year-old property owner came out the back gate, and we started chatting. Annie and I met him many moons ago when we toured one of his apartments (which we might have rented had there been more sunlight coming into the bedrooms).
Raised in Michigan farm country, John arrived in San Diego at age 17 and never left. He is fit, with all his wits—meaning sharp and spry in all the ways that matter. While we talked about the shortcomings of modern education—writing proficiently of 1940’s eighth graders compared to high school graduates today—I heard what sounded like a meowing kitty. As we continued, sound increased in volume and intensity until, quite surprisingly, Darth Mew ambled over a six-foot-high fence. Without any elucidation, John said the cat’s mother is buried on his property (but the black longhair lives elsewhere).
I am reluctant to post pics of myself, but this one presents opportunity to pay photographic homage to my wife, who captured the Featured Image using her iPhone XS. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 25, 1/1748 sec, 26mm (film equivalent); 1:01 p.m. PDT, today. Thank-you, Annie.
We walked by the house where live Bruce (pictured) and Guido, both of which are profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series, and the fluffier feline came on to the sidewalk to visit.
My day started with resolve not to document destruction of the majestic palm infested with South American Palm Weevils—across the street from my home office window. But my wife and I watched the preparation stage, which was the city towing a pickup truck, baring Washington State plates, parked directly beneath the block’s major wildlife habitat.
Soon after, we heard the surprising sound of a chainsaw but could see no lift raised high so that a cutter could sever fronds from the palm’s crown. From a different window, Annie spotted someone working the base of the tree and a rope tied to the top. Then we realized: Rather than the more typical cut-from-the-top-down method, the men approached the project like lumberjacks would back home in Maine.