Right when I arrived, I was told that Atlanta is one of only two cities in the world that still classify as “urban forests.” (The other, I hear, is New Delhi, India, but I haven’t been able to verify any of this.) What no one told me was that the lovely greenery of Midtown is just teeming with fearsome, feral cats. This morning, my dog and I were sprung on — sprung on! — by a black, feline ninja, waving its paws like a kung-fu master and hissing like a busted radiator. Also, it had throwing stars and I blowgun, I think.

That was the second time we found ourselves being watched by hidden cats — the second time today. I’m telling you: they’re up to something.