Choo & Choo

Salt Lake City is not the sort of place you expect to find reclusive eccentrics. Everyone here seems to aspire to be average. With 200,000 middle class white Christians educated by the worst-funded public educational system in America, Salt Lake City is a place awash with conformity and mediocrity.

As luck would have it, I live next to the one weirdo in the whole town. Nestled in a small grotto of trees, next to a large old house, is a set of miniature train tracks which we often pass on our Kittyfinders recon missions.

If it weren't for the enormous exterminator tent we saw one day, the house would seem completely abandoned. The lights are never on, there are no cars in the driveway, and, as a drunken homeless gentleman informed me, "I've never seen the trains run. Fifteen years and I've never seen any trains. Just cats."

And so Choo & Choo wile away their days as two fuzz-clad locomotives on a hermit's 200 meter long pipe dream. How many cats live here? Was there a train at one time or was this built for kitties? Only the Choos know. But they scurried down the tracks before we could ask them.