Every Neighborhood Needs a Cat Lady

In my opinion, every neighborhood needs a few essential residents.

The neighbors who put on over-the-top Christmas displays that strain the city's power supply and create traffic jams for weeks on end.

The do-gooder who delivers the latest neighborhood gossip along with the homemade cookies.

The recluse who is never seen during the daylight hours.

And the Cat Lady.

The last position recently became vacant. Today, a friend of mine sent the death notice for Hattiesburg's long-time Cat Lady. I'm not sure how long she held this distinction. In her funeral directions, she specified that her age not be posted in the newspapers.

Back when I was in college, nearly 30 years ago, "Cat Lady's House" was on the tour all new freshmen took shortly after arriving in town. It also included a stop at the drive-through funeral home. Sadly, the "Elvis is Alive" museum was not open then.

I never actually met "Cat Lady." Going by what I read in her obit, she was a true Southern eccentric (and you know how I love those) -- well-bred, well-educated, active in the arts and politics. According to local lore, she owned at least 50 cats at one time. I also heard that she once drove a dead person around town to look at the Christmas lights. The last part wasn't in the paper.

So now Hattiesburg is Cat Lady-less -- a sorry state of affairs for a Southern town. Where will the freshman tour go now? The drive-through funeral home closed years ago. I believe the Elvis is Alive museum has also followed its namesake to that big Graceland in the sky.

I think I should apply for the Cat Lady job. If you know anything at all about my family, I certainly have the pedigree. And the cats.

But is seven enough?