They say cats led the assault on the internet and caused
the Eternal September, so I’m not going to share cat
photos here.  Instead, I’ll share a few cat memories
— because I haven’t posted on colorfield.space in a
while and still haven’t written up my reviews of visits
I’ve made to a few nearby aerospace museums.

My earliest cat memory was of the cat my parents got
before I was born.  He was a stray they took in and
named Alley Cat.  We always called him Alley, and  it
took me many years to realize that it was not short for
Allistair or Aloysius, but rather a totally cool street
name for a cat.  Alley was black and white, and he was a
scaredy cat.  Evidently neighbor kids had gone after him
with stones when he was young and scarred him for life.
He was a sweet cat and purred loudly when petted, but
he would bolt in a millisecond at any fast movement or
sudden noise.  Alley was also perpetually greasy, which
made his proper name all the more fitting.

After Alley ascended to the great dumpster in the sky,
we got another cat that I personally named Tiger.  He was
gray, but that didn’t matter. But this name turned out
to be fitting too because he had some sort of hormonal
issue and grew to an unnaturally large size.  He also had
horrible mood swings and would attack you viciously when he
was hungry.  When he wasn’t hungry though he was loving
and very playful.  I used to go for walks late at night in
the summers and Tiger was often waiting outside for me,
pretending to stalk me when I got near home.  Out of the
still night, I would hear a rustle and turn just as he was
charging and about to leap.  Although this happened several
times, it never ceased to startle the crap out of me. Tiger
later died of a heart attack, too big for his own good.

When in grad school, my wife and I lived in student
housing apartments, right next to the remarkably loud
train tracks and not too far from an arboretum that was
home to a feral cat colony.  Our apartment complex had
a no-pets policy, but we still got a kick out of putting
out bowls of food and water for the cats once in a while.
(It turned out that we were not only feeding the cats,
but also the opossums.  But that is another story.)
After some months of regular feedings, we had attracted a
regular crowd of feral cats, most of which would vanish
instantly if you made your presence felt.  But two cats
were slightly more tame and we named them Huihui and
Huangmao, Chinese for Gray Cat and Yellow Cat (sort of).
Huihui and Huangmao got gradually more comfortable with
our presence and eventually allowed us to pet them and
later even cautiously pick them up.

Over time, we let our guard down about the no-pets policy
and even let Huihui and Huangmao into our apartment.
We had a big sliding glass door that we rigged to stay
open wide enough for a cat but too narrow for a burglar.
I know what you’re thinking, “what could possibly go
wrong?(TM)”.  Well nothing did go wrong.  Not right away
at least.  I would come back from campus and my wife back
from work to find the two cats absolutely intoxicated by
the luxury of an indoor couch or bed to stretch out on.
I don’t know if cats can smile, but these cats sure
looked happy and they sure expressed appreciation for this
new life.

So time went on and the cats became part of life in that
apartment.  But Huangmao was not neutered and would go out
carousing at night.  Occasionally we would hear him making
the most horrible noises as he got in fights with other
toms or did the opposite of fighting with the mollies.
Unfortunately that racket must have angered a neighbor
in the apartment complex because one day he didn’t come
back.  And he was missing for a few days until he finally
returned with a horrible injury to his face, as though he
had been kicked by a human or hit by some thrown object.
He was never the same after that.

And then one day I came back from campus to find a note on
my door saying that we were busted.  A maintenance worker
had entered the apartment while we were out and discovered
our feral cat resort and spa.  We were about two whiskers
from being evicted, but I somehow begged and whined my way
into a second chance.  We would be under strict monitoring
though so there would be no more members entrance through
the glass door for the cats.  Ultimately we weened the
cats off our care by leaving them less and less food
outside until they stopped coming around.  In retrospect,
despite the fun, I’m surprised we didn’t get fleas
from that friendship.

I haven’t had another cat since then, and there are no
feral cats in my current neighborhood.  The winters would
probably kill them.  I’ll keep my eyes open though.

This post has been a salute to the cats of the internet.
Shame on you for ruining the internet, but thanks for all
the offline memories.