My eyes focused through the hazy remnants of dreams and sandy eyes. What was this cloud? It was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was... could it be... a sign.
I rubbed my eyes and brushed the sand from my hair and face. Somewhere through the night I remember the sound of Thunder. Only it was more than just Thunder, it was so much more powerful- a hollow boom that was followed by a shockwave of wind and heat.
Was it a bomb? Have the terrorists started bombing Puerto Rico? I know it's a U.S. territory but come on, P.R. is filled with passionate Puerto Ricans, not the dreaded infidels that are such golden targets.
What the hell was that? Later, after I brushed myself off and hit the store for a cup of Joe on my bike, I see the newspaper Nueva Dia and see the picture of the cloud.
A giant explosion of a jet fuel plant. I mean GIANT. It's still burning and the cloud casts a huge black and white shadow in the shape of an atom bomb mushroom cloud.
Not a sign after all, but pretty cool if you ask me.
After a cup of Joe I try to shake off the previous day and night before. Later my buddy Art gives me a call.
ART: I'm riding my bike down to Old San Juan, it's about a forty five minute bike ride. I'm going to El Morro. I volunteer at a Cat Rescue Center there and need to ride around in a golf cart and feed the kitties around the Fort. Wanna go?
Sure, why not? After Yesterday I'm up for anything positive.
So twenty minutes later we're cruising through the backstreets of San Juan beaches. What an awesome ride- but what a ride. It's a work out in itself but I'm luvin' it. Through busy streeets, office centers, bridges, fancy hotels, and crowds of various people we eventually get to Old San Juan.
Old San Juan, just one of the coolest places in the world. For those of you that have been to St. Augustine, Florida or the Motherland of Spain then you can relate to the style of the place. It was built by the same line of architects after all.
Art shows me how he fills their water and food.
Nice, I say.
ART: Oh this is nuthin, brother. Wait till we get in the cart and go see the real colonies. That's the real deal.
So we fill up about twenty large bottles of water and he grabs a bucket of Kitty food. Art has already stopped by the store and grabbed a full grocery bag of Wet Cat food- the real treat, he tells me.
No worries, Art shoots them a smile and they wave us on through. I guess he's well known around here- or at least the cart is.
Before we know it we're zippin down the path that runs just along the giant cliffs of the fort- El Morro. What an awesome sight. The Ocean and the Cloud of Fire to the left of us and the giant spiring cliffs of El Morro to the right. Fun, fun, fun.
We don't even roll about twenty yards and then I see them.
Holy Cow. Or should I say Holy Cats.
Cats are suddenly appearing out of nowhere- from the rocks to the left, from bushes to the right, jumping down from the cliffs, all of them realizing the sound of the golf cart and what it represents.
Now that's a lot of pussy.
LINK: Oh man, Art, this is nuts. Look at them all!
ART: Ah, this is nothing. This is just the first feeding station and colony. We've got ten more feeding stations to go. Wait till you see some of the bigger colonies up ahead.
Bigger colonies? What the hell. Cats were meowing and still coming out of the woodwork in droves. Art smiles, parks the cart, and immediately goes to scattering cat food all along the rocks- anywhere he sees a cat.
ART: See how all there ears are clipped. That means they've been taken to the vet, neutered and given all the proper shots and treatment. It's really a good thing the San Juan Cat Rescue group does.
And this is how we rolled for the rest of the afternoon.
The day before was a bit of a nightmare. And now I was here, standing in one of the most beautiful places in the world, riding around in a golf cart, and feeding and watering about a thousand purring kitties.
Life, it's just nuts, ain't it.
