The cats had one of their first forrays into the outside world into direct unfiltered hazy sunlight.
The haze overpowers the sun and it gets downright COLD. So I put on layers (it's August 1st!!) and decide to finally answer the siren call of the sea lions and whatever else awaits at Fisherman's Wharf, about 8 blocks away. It's my father's birthday, so I call him and we chat as I walk and narrate the scene. It's also Jerry Garcia's birthday, so plenty of noodly guitar music noodling through the streets of North Beach and the Wharf.
This is one of the strangest cats I've ever seen. He held a fan of branches from shrubs, camophlaging himself, hiding behind a trashcan--giggling and jabbering like Popeye. He'd peek out at people coming by (no one noticed him; I did because I was alone and just looking at everything). And when they met some criteria, he'd leap out at them and people would almost have heart attacks. Children, old people, Asians, black people, teenagers. People were in tears. Running down the sidewalk. Terrified. And he laaaaughed and laaaaughed. Then go back behind his shrubs and wait again. ____________________
Next day, a Monday, I buy sunflowers to bring back some light and color...
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