We’ve had five-alarm Eli weekend in New Orleans during a week that coincided with his fifth birthday.
He and his mother came from Milwaukee last Saturday. His dad has, with air travel complications both from weather and international events, been trying since Wednesday to join us. We hope he’ll finally get here today.
During Eli’s visit we have discovered that Oreo, our oldest damncat who survived both Katrina and then, nine days later, evacuation with us to Panola County, has grown deaf. The other inside damncats flee to closets and behind couches at the sound of running footsteps  and the general din that accompanies a five-year-old. Oreo remains docile in her place, sitting in her old, damncat position with her feet and tail tucked under her body, sleeping undisturbed.
The outside damncats flee as well. As soon as Eli bursts through the door and into the yard, damncats run under the house and over fences, including the fence that the new neighbor has extended and now topped with small nails to discourage their visits.
The new neighbor is trying to protect his ever-increasing investment in his backyard, having built a beautiful cedar pergola to house an outdoor kitchen. Work crews arrive almost daily, electricians, nurserymen and carpenters, all sharing in the largesse of the gentrification being extended next door.
Yesterday was Audubon Zoo day for Eli and me. (As opposed to an ordinary zoo day which is most every day at our house and especially when Eli is visiting.) We went in the morning when they opened and so did hundreds and hundreds of other folks, some visiting during spring breaks and some on school buses from all over southeast Louisiana. The Audubon Zoo is every school’s favorite field trip destination.
After about an hour, Eli said, “I want to go home.” I did not resist. We returned at mid-afternoon as the last buses were departing. Audubon Zoo’s closing time came too soon so we returned to the Laurel Street damncat zoo. Fortunately for us, unfortunately for Eli, the damncat zoo offers no souvenir store. Not that there aren’t enough trinkets around here anyway, leftover from other grandchildren who have mostly outgrown them.
Our daughter encourages us to put up a Facebook page featuring these Laurel Street damncats. The idea is that someone may come up with a helpful suggestion about how to get out of this overburden of felines that we’ve gotten ourselves into. My wife said no, that she doesn’t want any more attention brought to this dilemma than already exists.
That’s the standoff on Laurel Street, where the speed of gentrification is on a collision course with the damncat population.