The Hood

Just another cold morning out there. Changed a few frozen towels, emptied a few frozen water bowls. You would be surprised to know just many cats are homeless in the city. I’ve said this before, most of you are tucked into your nice warm beds in the early hours of the morning, still dark as night out, and the only time you venture out into ‘the city’ is when you either go to work, or the public market, or you might work or live just on the outskirts, but the real hood is a scary place to go to, in daylight, in my opinion. In the darkness, at 5 am., its quiet and quite pleasant actually. No one is around, especially in the wintertime. In the summer you find a few prostitutes in the Bay/Central area, and some of the druggies sitting on a bench in the median of Central, near the bootleggers house on Second where they get their fix at all hours of the night and day, but they don’t bother me, they know me as the Cat Lady, and I’ve gotten to know a few of them if only their name, and what they might want me for. I’ve brought sandwiches, and water to a few in my time. I even supplied a blanket for a homeless guy that was sleeping on the porch of an abandoned house where I was feeding cats earlier last spring. He moved on shortly thereafter, but I am sure he was grateful for the bologna sandwich and the blanket at the time. Seven, the prostitute that greets me fondly each time she sees me, and is amazed that I can remember her baby’s name, Walter, who will be two years old this year – how could I forget – I called the police on her once when she had to be eight months pregnant and running around drunk out of her mind at 5:30 in the morning. She never knew it was me. Then there is Tamara, who is wild and crazy, but is respectful of what I do. I haven’t seen her around in a very long time, and recently Seven told me that she might be ‘back in jail.’ She was heavily into the booze and drugs – and had been in and out of rehabs before. She would cry sometimes when I would stop and talk to her, begging me for money or food. I gave her food, or a ride, but she knew I would never give her money. Don’t carry it, and don’t have it! Anyways, those are the tales of the streets, besides the cat tales… And there are a ton of those.


There is one kitty that has been hanging around for about a month or so now, on Central. He is a big boy, and I think he is neutered. He is very sweet, loves a good scratch and pat, and doesn’t belong there. I am going to try to get him tomorrow and bring him to Lollipop for hopeful adoption. He follows me from spot to spot on Central. This morning, he followed me to my car, wasn’t even interested in devouring the food like the others do. I know I can’t save them all, but I can try to do it one at a time.

"It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation."