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Original photography by Jay Gross
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Snapshots: Key West Kats, August '98
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Virginia
is for lovers only if you count Oedipal complexes. Key West, on the
other hand, is truly for cat lovers. Starting with the wonderful array
of working cats (they sleep peacefully so tourists will go "awww" at
them and leave with a sense of fulfillment) at Ernest Hemingway's
former house and
present museum - slash - shrine. Here are some more Key West Kitties.
Above is
one of the Hemingway beasts taking a drink from Ernie's own cat
watering
basin. It's a urinal (see the drain shape at the far end?) recycled
from
a men's-room renovation at Sloppy Joe's bar.
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This kitty's also on the Key West page that probably got you here.
He's watching out for business inside the Hemingway Museum Book Store.
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Another of the museum's working cats. This
one's curled himself (herself?) up in the window to attract a steady
flow of cat lovers to browse the books, coffee mugs, and other
Hemingway essentials.
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Here's
a proper Key West store kitty. This one watches out for business near
the famous Kino's Sandal Complex. There are no finer sandals anywhere,
Birkenstock notwithstanding, but Kino's keeping bankers' hours these
days, so it's hard to catch them in after the de rigeur
afternoon siesta. A correct
afternoon siesta occupies the entire afternoon, of course. Morning?
Forget
it. Morning is still mostly not spoken in Key West, tourists'
proclivities
notwithstanding.
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The fine art of napping goes back to cats'
early history. They not only invented it, but perfected it, improved on
it, and have practiced it fervently all these centuries to make sure
they got it right. This tabby in Hemingway's back yard demonstrates the
professional's touch in the napping arts.
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Another
show of highly advanced napping. This grey cat chooses an elevated
perch, an ironwork table in the lush, tropical garden. Ernie's grey cat
was named "Zane". I don't know whether this one is he, or even
related. Maybe a toe count? Some DNA testing?
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Cats like to keep people mindful of the fact
that cats have never been domesticated. See, the difference between
cats and
dogs is that dogs have owners. Cats have staff.
Here's
 another
specimen from Ernie's place, preening himself on a garden chair. The
cat at left is guarding the imported tiles in the Hemingway garden,
holding
down several of them while he waits and naps. Er, watches.
Under the
stairs is yet another working cat. This one intrepidly minds the stairs
to the
writing studio. In Ernie's day there was an ironwork bridge from the
house
over the garden, no stairs. The bridge corroded and collapsed. Cat's
gotta
watch out for that, now. Takes time. Lots of time. Might as well sleep
while waiting.
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