If it weren't for the spiders, I would move to Key West

I'm blogging at you from outdoor wireless on a patio in Key West, a block away from the revelry on Duval Street. It took only five minutes for a cat to find me (relaxed, happy, neutered). Were it not that the trees are home to a fair number of webs and spiders, and the cheapest house costs $250,000--with the average at around 600K--you might see me selling everything I have and coming here.



After breakfast at the Blue Heaven I bid goodbye to my coworkers and remained behind as most flew back north. I have a day and a half of sun, cats, and chickens, before I climb on my own plane.



This is Coach, a Blue Heaven cat, absolutely blind and absolutely happy. She has her own plastic chair with a bed a customer bought her, and a sign with her name on it. She has many co-habitants here at the restaurant.




I roamed Duval Street today, picking up some small presents for family and friends. I bought a toe ring to celebrate my happy feet, watched the sunset (a rite of passage I am told, on Key West) with Mike and Joan, our founder Betsy's parents, and am now listening to the wind blow through the palm trees, and the buzz of scooters up and down the quiet street. You would never know hundreds of tourists and residents are partying just a block away.

Key West has not only community cats, but community chickens.



This little fellow came right over to see if I had anything edible.



Three full nights of sleep for the first time in perhaps a half year, a bit of sun, and the freedom of toes, has even loosened me up enough to post a photo of myself.



The lovely white lady is a Hemingway cat, but you will have to wait until tomorrow for me to post those photos, as it's a wee bit cold out here.

Tomorrow, breakfast, a beach, the shelter, the Rooster Rescue Team, then home again, home again.