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Nextdoor Wars: Coyote catches cat in La Mesa
New column examines the online interactions of IRL neighbors
Just like people, coyotes love cats. Well, maybe not just like people.
San Diego has always been a city of hidden stories — murmured in the spaces between sun-bleached bungalows, whispered over backyard fences, and now, increasingly, shouted into the digital void of neighborhood apps. And nowhere are these narratives more brutally and hilariously exposed than on Nextdoor, the social media platform that has become the city's most unfiltered confessional.
La Mesa is a smallish city nestled on the eastern edge of San Diego. It boasts palm-lined streets, mid-century ranch homes, and an abundance of citrus trees that are either lovingly tended or left to rot in a way that suggests some of your neighbors may have given up on life completely.
Fairview Avenue, where a cat named Ellie recently met her untimely end, is typical of this dynamic. Some residents seem to spend their entire weekends repainting fences and hand-watering potted succulents. Others embrace a more laissez-faire aesthetic, letting weeds grow with the confidence that comes from being a native species. But despite the overgrowth, it's the kind of street that looks like a safe space — until you realize that its proximity to the nearby hills and canyons make it a five-star dining destination for coyotes.
Coyotes are La Mesa’s unofficial mascots: wily, adaptable, and utterly indifferent to the property values they disrupt. While humans may argue over the merits of outdoor cats, coyotes slip through the cracks of suburban order, treating the neatly edged lawns of La Mesa as their personal buffet.
The Incident
“At 10am this morning, after a quick fight, a coyote took our Ellie from our front yard down Fairview Ave. It was all caught on our cameras. We knew the risks and knew this could happen, but it doesn’t make it any easier. We only let our cats out from 9 am to 4 pm, and they usually stay close. It was impossible to keep them in during the day. Working from home, we try to keep close tabs on them. She was taken just 20 feet from my office door. Please message if you find her collar or remains.”
Comments/Observations
1: “It wasn’t impossible to keep them in—you chose not to. Outdoor cats have much shorter life spans because of this choice.”
A masterclass in judgment disguised as fact.
2. “I think it’s completely inhumane and cruel to let a cat out when you know there’s something that wants to eat it. That’s like letting a four-year-old walk to the park alone.”
The toddler metaphor is as subtle as a coyote dragging a cat down the street.
3. “You go outside with the risk of dying every day for multiple reasons, but you still step outside, right?”
Death is a small price to pay for freedom!
4. “There are 1,462 other posts complaining about the risk of animals and coyotes. Take your judgments to those posts. Judgment in a time of grief is unnecessary.”
A rare voice of reason, although it drips with subtle judgement.
5. “I think it’s completely inhumane and cruel to keep a cat indoors for their entire lifespan just so you can have something to cuddle.”
I imagine the cats of La Mesa gathering in solidarity to like this comment, tails held high, paws in salute. But then, I'm a dog person.
The Big Picture
Ellie’s death wasn’t just a tragedy; it became a litmus test for the La Mesa community. Some residents saw it as a failure of personal responsibility, others as the inevitable consequence of living next to nature, and a vocal few turned it into an existential debate about freedom versus safety.
As for Ellie’s owner, he finds himself in the unenviable position of being both a grieving cat dad and the reluctant center of a fierce moral debate. Was he reckless for letting her roam? Or was he honoring her nature, letting her live a life of adventure, however brief?
Coyotes, of course, have no interest in these questions. Nature is famously red in tooth and claw, and also famously indifferent to philosophy. For them, Ellie wasn’t a tragedy. She was lunch.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Nextdoor Wars: Coyote catches cat in La Mesa
New column examines the online interactions of IRL neighbors
Nextdoor Wars: Coyote catches cat in La Mesa
New column examines the online interactions of IRL neighbors
Just like people, coyotes love cats. Well, maybe not just like people.
San Diego has always been a city of hidden stories — murmured in the spaces between sun-bleached bungalows, whispered over backyard fences, and now, increasingly, shouted into the digital void of neighborhood apps. And nowhere are these narratives more brutally and hilariously exposed than on Nextdoor, the social media platform that has become the city's most unfiltered confessional.
La Mesa is a smallish city nestled on the eastern edge of San Diego. It boasts palm-lined streets, mid-century ranch homes, and an abundance of citrus trees that are either lovingly tended or left to rot in a way that suggests some of your neighbors may have given up on life completely.
Fairview Avenue, where a cat named Ellie recently met her untimely end, is typical of this dynamic. Some residents seem to spend their entire weekends repainting fences and hand-watering potted succulents. Others embrace a more laissez-faire aesthetic, letting weeds grow with the confidence that comes from being a native species. But despite the overgrowth, it's the kind of street that looks like a safe space — until you realize that its proximity to the nearby hills and canyons make it a five-star dining destination for coyotes.
Coyotes are La Mesa’s unofficial mascots: wily, adaptable, and utterly indifferent to the property values they disrupt. While humans may argue over the merits of outdoor cats, coyotes slip through the cracks of suburban order, treating the neatly edged lawns of La Mesa as their personal buffet.
The Incident
“At 10am this morning, after a quick fight, a coyote took our Ellie from our front yard down Fairview Ave. It was all caught on our cameras. We knew the risks and knew this could happen, but it doesn’t make it any easier. We only let our cats out from 9 am to 4 pm, and they usually stay close. It was impossible to keep them in during the day. Working from home, we try to keep close tabs on them. She was taken just 20 feet from my office door. Please message if you find her collar or remains.”
Comments/Observations
1: “It wasn’t impossible to keep them in—you chose not to. Outdoor cats have much shorter life spans because of this choice.”
A masterclass in judgment disguised as fact.
2. “I think it’s completely inhumane and cruel to let a cat out when you know there’s something that wants to eat it. That’s like letting a four-year-old walk to the park alone.”
The toddler metaphor is as subtle as a coyote dragging a cat down the street.
3. “You go outside with the risk of dying every day for multiple reasons, but you still step outside, right?”
Death is a small price to pay for freedom!
4. “There are 1,462 other posts complaining about the risk of animals and coyotes. Take your judgments to those posts. Judgment in a time of grief is unnecessary.”
A rare voice of reason, although it drips with subtle judgement.
5. “I think it’s completely inhumane and cruel to keep a cat indoors for their entire lifespan just so you can have something to cuddle.”
I imagine the cats of La Mesa gathering in solidarity to like this comment, tails held high, paws in salute. But then, I'm a dog person.
The Big Picture
Ellie’s death wasn’t just a tragedy; it became a litmus test for the La Mesa community. Some residents saw it as a failure of personal responsibility, others as the inevitable consequence of living next to nature, and a vocal few turned it into an existential debate about freedom versus safety.
As for Ellie’s owner, he finds himself in the unenviable position of being both a grieving cat dad and the reluctant center of a fierce moral debate. Was he reckless for letting her roam? Or was he honoring her nature, letting her live a life of adventure, however brief?
Coyotes, of course, have no interest in these questions. Nature is famously red in tooth and claw, and also famously indifferent to philosophy. For them, Ellie wasn’t a tragedy. She was lunch.
Comments