I grew up by the beach in a San Diego suburb. Living by the beach there was always quite a collection of stray and feral cats. We even had our own “cat lady.”

I was nine years old when I first noticed the cat lady. Every evening she would push a creaky old wagon filled with cans of cat food, a jug of water, and paper plates down the street behind my house. One by one, cats would begin to follow her. Faces slowly forming behind glowing eyes, they’d crawl out from under cars and sneak through backyards, following the wagon and its owner. Continue reading »