The Mayor of Lake Walker
As darkness gathered that October evening, it was as if he was waiting for me. A large ginger cat sat un-perturbed on the front steps of my new home, watching me dump my belongings onto the driveway in a frantic bid to get the moving van back to Penske in Pigtown. But what was that cat doing there? I scrambled up a slick verge to meet him. Was there a tag? Had the previous residents forgotten him?
He submitted to a pet, then slowly — so slowly — and with a signature swish of the tail, retreated into an azalea hedge, and thence the night.
His name, it turned out, was Tabor, after a lake in Ohio, where as a kitten he had ingratiated himself to a pair of Marylanders, who brought him home to Baltimore. But it was years later, and only by his title, that I came to …
North American Native Plant Societies
After the lawn
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