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.
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.
Oh the things that turn up in San Diego alleys. I can only guess whether someone hung up this wet suit to dry or for some passerby to take. My wife and I saw the water-wear while walking down the alley separating Alabama and Florida streets here in University Heights.
I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, which is the only shot. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 3:58 p.m. PDT, today.
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.
File the Featured Image in the category of “look up”. Because, until this evening when conducting an online image search, I had no idea that this hanging thing—upon which I repeatedly bonked my head over several months—is a banana flower. If I understand rightly, and someone correct me if mistaken, bananas should have been seen growing above had I turned my eyes upward.
I don’t exactly recall over which sidewalk the bulbous object hung, but it would be somewhere on the East side of Park Blvd in San Diego neighborhood University Heights. My guess: Louisiana or Mississippi street.
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.
When BLVD North Park—located in University Heights, by the way—started taking applications in summer 2019, projected rents ranged from $1,970 to $4,500. Fast-forward three years, and you might as well start selling off organs to pay for the astronomical increases locally. According to Rent.com: “The average rent for apartments in San Diego, Calif., is between $2,379 and $5,205 in 2022″—for studio and three-bedroom, respectively. One bed: $2,889, up from $2,300 in mid-2019. Two: $3,778, up from $2,823 during the same time period.
Maybe prospective renters should feel good about BLVD North Park, which rates aren’t monumentally pumped up—being already lofty before dramatic increases across the region. An 831-square-foot two beds and baths goes for $3,700, according to a listing on Trulia. That’s within the range that I recall—rightly, hopefully—when the BLVD property opened to residents.
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.