3-21-16

We called her the “Cat Lady.” In the 80’s and into the early 90’s, this sweet old lady showed up every morning at Belcher Park to feed the wild cats that lived there. In 1986, Belcher Park was less a park and more like an overgrown forgotten piece of land. Our neighborhood was still a friendly place where you knew almost everyone on the street and said hello and talked about the weather or the Red Sox. The Cat Lady lived on our street at the bottom of the hill. Every morning she slowly trudged up the hill with her plastic bags of cat food.

The cats knew too. They sensed her presence. They would gather at the Belcher Park entrance sign, running back and forth excitedly like children in a schoolyard as she turned the corner into the park. At times there could be up to ten cats. As she bent down to portion out the food in bowls, the cats rubbed up against her, tails sticking high in the air. The party was on. These were by no means friendly cats either—they were super shy and if it weren’t for the Cat Lady I would never have known they lived there. If by the odd chance I came across one as I was cutting through the park to the fort, it was gone in seconds.

In 1993, when she got older and the hill was probably too much for her to climb, she began to drive her car. And like a good mother she continued to feed them— rain or snow.

By 1995-96 I lost track of the 70 Allen beat. I was traveling around a little, off partying with my friends and not living at home anymore. It wasn’t until years later when the neighborhoods started to change— good neighbors sold their houses and older folks passed away that ignorant inner city families moved in. It was then that I remembered the Cat Lady and wondered if she were still alive or not. She was such a good person. When I think of her now it reminds me of two things: first, the basic goodness in people. Secondly, it brings me back to an idyllic time, a sort of golden age when neighbors were neighborly and life was fun and pure.

ps... I woke up at 4:30 am and for some reason was thinking about the Cat Lady who, in reality was Mrs McGann-- not sure about spelling but I knew her son from High School. He was a good guy but he just wasn't part of my crowd and we never bumped into each other. Anyway, I don't know what brought it on but I felt compelled to tell this small story. It was snowing, despite it just officially turning spring a few days ago and I knew the kids would have school cancelled and if school was cancelled, I wasn't going to work. So school was cancelled and instead of going back to sleep I went right to my desktop and wrote about our beloved Cat Lady.