We noticed this tribe of cats one night while leaving our studio at the Brooklyn Army Terminal. A few were seated on the steps leading out of the building and as we looked closer we saw the glow of more eyes scattered around the far parking lot.
|Count the pairs of eyes!|
Since that night we've been on the lookout for these rugged beings who seem to congregate at the hole in the back fence just beyond the dilapidated street cleaner. Perhaps it's their fort.
On warmer days we see them chasing each other around the lot. On colder nights there is usually one lone cat, we're convinced he's the sentinel, who guards the entrance to the hole in the fence. Perhaps they each take turns at the post.
It's hard to say exactly why we are so enamored with these cats. I guess as cat owners we have an understanding about these finicky creatures and feel sad for the ones who don't have warm homes and push over owners like us. But, it's specifically this strange environment, the parking lot of a huge industrial area that seems to hold the vehicle dregs of New York City, that creates such a strong juxtaposition. Here is a place where few trees grow and the bulk of greenery comes from the weeds that poke through the cracks of the concrete. Yet, a gang of cats spanning a wide range of age, size and colorings, have gathered here to make it a home. Who knows how they keep warm at night, manage to find food- as I can't imagine the rat population even finding reason to hang about, or any semblance of water to drink. And yet, here they are. I always keep an eye out for them when I enter the building. If I don't see one then and not when I leave either, I start to wonder if they have moved on to another watering hole. It's a strange relief to then see the sentinel the next day, watching over his post and observing the humans coming and going. Perhaps for as much entertainment as they bring us, we are actually their daily dose comedic relief.