Next to little girls and squirrels, Mike liked Cats. In fact, I think he thought he was one. He would weave through your legs, and he licked and licked and preened himself clean. He reminded me of an Issa Haiku the way he stretched and yawned and ambled about looking for love.
On our walks, Mike, Aggie and I may very well have explored every alley and community garden on Capitol Hill, from the Armory to the Upper Senate fountains. On our journeys we met many a cat.
One late afternoon we headed down an alley over by Kentucky Courts, only to find ourselves trapped in a cul-de-sac. We were busted with no way out, held hostage by a half white half black thug of a cat who thought he was with the Housing Authority. He had us cornered. We dodged to the left and we dodged to the right and that cat matched our every move. We were scardy-cats! I pulled the leashes tight and I yelled RUN! We made a run for it and that cat chased us all the way out of his of his alley, up 13th Street and around the corner and half a block up South Carolina. We never went back into that alley and all 3 of us had a little Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from that episode for years to come.
Mike never learned when it came to cats. He was always on the lookout. We found that the farthur we veered toward H Street– the cats got tougher and the yards got higher. Mike’s ears were pretty tall, so the cats could see him coming. One night, with a mighty pull, I thought Mike was going for a rat. He thrust his head into a thicket of bushes and came rearing out with a 35-pound orange tiger cat wrapped around his head like a turban. He tried to shake that cat and throw its claws free, but that cat just clung to his head for dear life. Even Aggie was speechless. The cat yowling ordeal seemed to last forever. When he finally shook that cat free, he sat dazed and you could almost see the cartoon stars dancing over his head.
The next day, he acted like acted like a stroke survivor and his head and ears swelled up like a giant swollen pincushion. Thankfully his vet, Dr. Katz cured him with an RX for cat scratch fever!
Our favorite is a juvenile delinquent of a grey orange cat at 1214 Constitution. That cat always sacked Mike. Even today, she is still is stalking him when she sees me walking down the block. She shops down from her perch, climbs around a lavender bush as if to say, “Where is he? Let me at him.”
I NEED a copy of this photo!!
Next to little girls and squirrels, Mike liked Cats. In fact, I think he thought he was one. He would weave through your legs, and he licked and licked and preened himself clean. He reminded me of an Issa Haiku the way he stretched and yawned and ambled about looking for love.
On our walks, Mike, Aggie and I may very well have explored every alley and community garden on Capitol Hill, from the Armory to the Upper Senate fountains. On our journeys we met many a cat.
One late afternoon we headed down an alley over by Kentucky Courts, only to find ourselves trapped in a cul-de-sac. We were busted with no way out, held hostage by a half white half black thug of a cat who thought he was with the Housing Authority. He had us cornered. We dodged to the left and we dodged to the right and that cat matched our every move. We were scardy-cats! I pulled the leashes tight and I yelled RUN! We made a run for it and that cat chased us all the way out of his of his alley, up 13th Street and around the corner and half a block up South Carolina. We never went back into that alley and all 3 of us had a little Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from that episode for years to come.
Mike never learned when it came to cats. He was always on the lookout. We found that the farthur we veered toward H Street– the cats got tougher and the yards got higher. Mike’s ears were pretty tall, so the cats could see him coming. One night, with a mighty pull, I thought Mike was going for a rat. He thrust his head into a thicket of bushes and came rearing out with a 35-pound orange tiger cat wrapped around his head like a turban. He tried to shake that cat and throw its claws free, but that cat just clung to his head for dear life. Even Aggie was speechless. The cat yowling ordeal seemed to last forever. When he finally shook that cat free, he sat dazed and you could almost see the cartoon stars dancing over his head.
The next day, he acted like acted like a stroke survivor and his head and ears swelled up like a giant swollen pincushion. Thankfully his vet, Dr. Katz cured him with an RX for cat scratch fever!
Our favorite is a juvenile delinquent of a grey orange cat at 1214 Constitution. That cat always sacked Mike. Even today, she is still is stalking him when she sees me walking down the block. She shops down from her perch, climbs around a lavender bush as if to say, “Where is he? Let me at him.”