An Opaque Existence

Renting a house on the Bluff gives one a regular front row seat to the myriad styles of life passing by and the seasons that ebb and flow as the tide just beyond – off to the horizon and Catalina. To many that island is merely a symbol of an unseen, yet known existence just beyond reach of the mainland and our daily life. The expanse separates us, save for a deliberate choice to board a ferry to enjoy what the idyllic village of Avalon can provide – at least for a day.

Framing that view each day (except when that view is clouded by an opaque film of smog or clouds) is the Bluff’s edge. A walking path provides a constant stream of people – biking (people keep ignoring or stealing the No Bikes signage), running, striding, or strolling, alone or hand-in-hand with a loved one. But hidden from sight is an environment concealing groups of people and felines – both could be considered feral in nature and by their habits. Both are sustained by those who, through their kindness, unknowingly enable that very nature. This assistance may give solace to the ones providing the hand-outs, but it is also destroying the very habitat that they enjoy . . . the Bluff itself.

A full, thick row of bushes on the Bluff at Molino is almost gone now, slowly battered down from the traffic of feet climbing over the railing into the bushes to “care” for the cats, as well as from several homeless people camped there.
I have tried to get the city to deal with the feral cats – which can bring disease, and aggravate their domesticated brethren in our yards. I have also breached the people’s space on occasion to discuss shelter and long-term assistance getting off the street, without success. It’s the same between Temple and Redondo; plants and foliage now barely existent due to other homeless camping along the reinforcing wall ledges. I see them daily hauling their stuff and bicycles over the railing even in the rain and wind. I see the cats prowling along the walk looking for food that is delivered regularly.

The week’s downpours have reminded me that the Bluff is quickly eroding, as are the lives of the cats and people who are allowed to remain on the street without hope or a future. Both the Bluff and Lives are literally at a precipice. I have even gone as far as reporting the situation to law enforcement and the parks and rec department, trying to help both life and the Bluff.

Is there no hope for either the lives or the habitat? Or will we just advocate for the cats' right to flourish wherever they wish, ignoring the disease and overpopulation? Will we continue to enable a homeless existence by our so-called help and just turn our eyes away from the despair?

If you want to change something for the better, stop advocating for what enables the situation . . . rather, enable those who can actually provide assistance and a hand up. Help people make the choice that leads to more than what is merely an opaque existence, but to that which fully embraces life.