My dad used to tell the story of a neighbor of ours from way back when we lived on Hollen Rd. in Govans. A young man at the time, he was doing his best to be husband, father and businessman. He had recently taken a job 50 miles away in Washington, DC. Before he moved his family down I-95 he spent many an early morning on the road. Very few people were up in the neighborhood as early as he, so when he woke up one morning to an empty milk container he didn't have many doors he could knock on for a loan.
He looked out the door in hopes of seeing a house with the lights on and was surprised, and a bit relieved, to see the elderly "cat lady" across the street with lights on downstairs. My dad always laughs when he recalls the sights and sounds he took in when old Mrs. G. opened her kitchen door. There she stood in the soft glow of her kitchen lights with a herd of mewing cats and kittens zigzagging through her slippered feet.
Forty-five years later the tables have turned just a bit. Dad is still a husband to the same wife (not too shabby) and a great father. He's retired now and living next door to the young daughter who had just been born back when he first came face to face with that cat lady.
The funny thing is that when he moved in my sister's three cats followed. Even though they appeared to be perfectly happy and content with their life next door all three of them are usually found lounging somewhere in his house. Food bowls are everywhere along with small glasses of water just in case any of his furry friends need a sip.
Early in the morning you can usually find my dad in the kitchen dishing out food to his feline entourage.
Crazy cat man or nice guy? Who knows, but those cats sure are happy.
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