After four days spent in an idyllic Upper Midwestern fall, it was admittedly hard to leave Madison to head south again. If it weren’t for my fervent allergy to winter and the forms it can take on above the Mason-Dixon line, I would have wept at Dane County Regional this morning. Sure, I survived 12 years of prairie tundra, but these genes were made for 90 degrees and 90% humidity all day, every day. Bring on the shorts, tank top and sweat. I miss summer, and it hasn’t even left New Orleans.
Driving up to my house, I saw two of my most favorite felines, S and G, forlornly staring out the window, waiting for mom and dad to return home. Their permanent catsitter, my legs ached to run into their house and shower them with attention, but mom and dad would return soon enough. As I dragged my luggage and groceries out of the car and into the front yard, the cats spotted Ringo, our block’s most notorious feral cat, on the front porch.
Pure off-white but for a ring of brown-grey around his neck (hence Ringo), this cat is a nuisance – he pees everywhere, is being fed by someone and had better stop staring at my plants – and taunts the uppity indoor cats of the neighborhood to no end. “I’m outside and you’re not. All you can do is look mean at me and bat at the window. Nyah, nyah!” This evening, S and G could take the insolence no longer and valiantly chased after him from the inside, ending up in a tussle with one another while threatening to bring the 14-foot-long curtains down onto themselves. I put all of my luggage down and laughed out loud, while passersby stared at me funny.
At this, another neighbor’s cat entered the scene and made light of the issue by rubbing herself against my legs. Not to be outdone, Ringo miaowed loudly and took off at the speed of light, causing much nervous chatter and activity amongst the squirrel population living in the magnolia tree right outside my house. Big magnolia seedlings and dried leaves came unhinged and landed on my head and torso. At the sound of the commotion, my other, other neighbor B came running up wondering where I had been all weekend and updated me on the neighborhood goings-on during my absence.
Never a dull moment in The Big Easy, except for the few moments of peace and calm I experienced while riding my bike to Mary’s Ace Hardware in the Quarter later this evening. The sun set beautifully over the Marigny while a gentle breeze worked the smell of jet fuel out of my hair. It felt good to be home.
