It wasn’t just a literary legend. There were scores of six-toed kitties wandering Papa Hemmingway’s estate in The Keys.
The cats slept or roamed among the broken tiles with kitty food scattered liberally and bowls of water and CREAM!
Fleece and One-eyed Jake scampered across the courtyard after catching a ride on a fruit truck from the wharf.
“Paradise,” Fleece snickered. “Look at all the kibble.”
“Manna,” smiled One-eyed, “and them cats is too fat to care.”
“Sure beats Miami,” Jake squinted, wriggling his nose. “It’s not the heat — it’s the humidity.”
The Pack settled in for an infest.