Last week, driving up Texas Street—one of the neighborhood’s major boundaries—road work compelled my wife and I to go home by way of Monroe instead of Madison. I sat in the passenger’s seat; a woman walking a dog accompanied by a cat riveted my attention. At home, soon as Anne pulled over, parked, and stepped out of the Honda Fit, I slipped into the driver’s seat and sped away to capture a portrait of the handsome, fluffer-tail cat walking the dog on Monroe. Of course, after pulling to the curb, and walking about several streets, I couldn’t find the beast—or his owner. But the Fujifilm X100F was ready.
Ten minutes later, I abandoned the hunt and started to drive home. Damn, I had gone one block too far and passed a doorway just in time to see the dog-walker, her mutt (that’s affectionately meant), and the feline disappear into an apartment (or perhaps duplex). I noted the building’s address number and nearest cross-street (Alabama) for future scouting. Last night, on my second day twlight’s attempt looking, I spotted the handsome furball waiting for his master’s return. Oh yeah!
