2000: The Dexter saga (a cat's cannonball run)

My brother Rick is the historian of the family. There's a saying (from John Ford's 1960 movie The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance) that he would probably agree with: "when the legend becomes fact, print the legend." May we all be legendary in our own lives -- even if it's all just in the family ....

My cat Dexter is happy in his own backyard, mostly. But even he has some stories to tell: he has disappeared for weeks at a time away from the dinner dish. Still he always returns, scarred and battle-hardened. Where does he go? Well, he's one of the lucky ones: he's a legend in his own lifetime thanks to Rick, who invented a Dexter history as far back as the War Between the States, or "the recent unpleasantness," as it's referred to over summer's mint juleps in Atlanta. Back in June, 2000, I got a series of postcards from the road as my brother came across towns that apparently have been visited by Dexter's Civil War ancestors. Herewith, for the benefit of future feline historians, is the Dexter saga photographed and told by Rick on the road.

The Dexter saga, part 1:

postcard: Dexter City, OH (6/10/2000)
In the state of Ohio in 1867 there was a rebel leader from the Southern army, from a Georgia regiment, who had been in a Yankee prison since the end of the Civil War. Ordinarily, cats weren't considered a high risk, but this cat (one "Sgt. Dexter") was so uncontrollable that the Yankee prison guards made the decision to lynch him.

One night a group of guards overpowered Sgt. Dexter and and lynched him in the prison yard. The next day the local townsfolk were so incensed by this they renamed their small Ohio town "Dexter City" in his memory. Sgt. Dexter was reportedly the last cat ever hanged during wartime. His saga must be told!

postcard: Dexter City, OH historical society image (6/14/2000)

The Dexter saga, part 2:

... or was Sgt Dexter really hanged? There are those who hold that a sympathetic guard cut him down, nursed him back to health, and arranged for Sgt. Dexter to make a daring escape during spring planting season.

Longtime residents claim this historic picture, above, offers evidence that the load of hay being carried right through downtown is hiding the scarred but healthy body of a cat on the run. All folks when asked about the Sgt. Dexter sightings have replied: "well I never personally saw him but my grandfather knows a man who said he saw Sgt. Dexter heading west" in hopes of setting up a community where all could live and walk the streets as free cats. Did Dexter's dream happen?

The Dexter saga, part 3:

postcard: Dexter, Iowa (6/15/2000)

Aha! we say, to all those non-believers. This photo clearly shows that Sgt. Dexter made his trip west and was successful in creating his cat Shangri-La.

Here you can obviously see a street devoid of all humans and devoted to the prosperity of free cats everywhere ...

... and they are proud cats, we might add. As we obviously note, they even have their own chapter of the American Legion ... proving that "once a fighting Dexter, always a fighting Dexter!"

Is this the only proof we have that the spirit of Sgt. Dexter lives on? WE think not!!!!!


The Dexter saga, part 4:

To all of those who ever doubted, we offer below, as proof of Sgt. Dexter's success, an unretouched photograph of a U.S. Postal Services branch located in a distant part of Iowa. You can not fake a Post Office!! They have to be okayed by the U.S Government! If you look very carefully at the glass window right next to the Post Office, you might catch the reflection of -- what is that? could it be?? ........ is this really possible???? Or am I going mad trying to prove my theory?

There are rumors that Dexter's blood and kin have fled to all parts of the world ... carrying on the work of Civil War POW-MIA Sgt. Dexter ... making the world a safe place for free cats everywhere!

postcard: Dexter IA post office, 6/16/2000

Birthdays: life is better with a sugar buzz

Postcard: Tequila mocking bird (2006)

Ah, birthdays. I try to have just one a year now.

They do still keep coming, though: it's the march of time and all that, no matter how infirm the step these days. Am I slowing down? No, the world just keeps raising the speed limit. Dave and his wife Karen, friends of mine now in Vegas, are playing the numbers "5" + "6," a decent combination (not every age adds up to 11, so there's bound to be some luck at craps.) At this point, the vicarious Vegas thrills are exciting enough, though the "Viva Viagra" commercial has ruined one of Elvis' better, later tunes for me. Back in 2006 when I was a youngster of 54, Steve and Shelly sent me the tequila mocking bird card above. After a shot or two of Tres Generaciones that's just what I feel like -- a psychedelic parrot in the desert. Arriba!


Dexter the cat has somehow managed to live on Bellemeade Avenue avoiding the MARTA buses and big rig wheels for ten years now. That's got to be eight lives, at least. When there's a cat in the house, birthday card choices are easy: cats with mice on their head, cats with silly grins, cats with attitude: there's a million choices. Joan sent me this birthday one for number 52: happy shredder cat, which is pretty close to Dexter's outlook on life. I've figured it out: Dexter's not my cat -- I'm his human. Ten years: a full dinner bowl, an open cat door, and Dexter's the Keith Richards of Bellemeade. One lucky cat.

Set the wayback machine, Sherman, for the year 1978: I was living on Juniper Street. The heyday of the "Atlanta strip" was long over but the street was still full of old broken-down houses, boarded-over windows, and real estate just waiting to be "parceled" into 20-story office buildings and luxury hotels.

Rent was $50. The house I shared with four Tech students at 952 was a prime location: directly in back of the Stein Club with its great jukebox, spelling contests, and cheap beer. The Cha Gio restaurant offered a buffet for $2.95, the old 10th Street Art movie house would be running out-of-focus third-run Elvis flicks (Clambake) that no-one watched, and punk clubs like TV Dinner were starting to sprout in the cracks between abandoned buildings. It wouldn't be long before a thousand construction cranes bloomed along Peachtree Street.


It was a perfect place for Snow White, Goofy, and Mickey. Joan sent this birthday card with its green whirl of "happy birthdays" on the flip (and the added green "Baba" hat.) All up and down Juniper St. it was Disney on parade for real: gals, guys, and otherwise in a forgotten area of town full of drunks, punks and lunkheads looking for thrills.

It was all kind of fun in a way, if you didn't mind cleaning up the used hypodermic needles in the front yard on the weekend, like a civic duty. Good times. Midtown was the "tri-bar" area: if you could walk in, you could try anything. The girls, and the "girls," hanging around on Peachtree and 10th in their spiked heels were usually friendly, and you could always outrun those that weren't. (Just be sure to leave your drink at the door.) Today, 952 Juniper is just the entrance to the lower parking deck behind the 999 Building on Peachtree.

From Disney to gone with the wind, for sure.

We're all older and wiser. Aren't we? Liz had been one of the denizens of 952, and she still sends birthday cards these many years later. That should count for something, though I'm not sure toward what. The card below was for the big 5-0, in 2002: Although you're at that awkward age between teenager and codger, you're looking good, dude!

Postcard (2002): "You can run but you can't hide"

What more can you ask? These days I probably couldn't outrun those high-heeled girls, even if they were interested in chasing me. They're at home waiting for hits on their Craigslist ads, anyway. So it goes.

2008: Hey! Five singles! Enough for a shot of Tres Generaciones! Thanks, bro!