The Return of Apollo, the Cat

It began with an unfortunate event.

A cat named Apollo, who had resided for 13 years with the Fleck family on Bond Street, went missing.

But the recent event in Boerum Hill, while perhaps somewhat common in a city of New York's size, exemplifies the extraordinary strength and value of a close-knit community.

Apollo, who is believed to be deaf and whose daily regimen consists of “sleeping and eating,” according to owner and long-time Boerum Hill resident Wanda Fleck, is now safely home, after wandering as far as the intersection of Pacific and Atlantic avenues. While his adventures are no small feat for a well-fed, hard-of-hearing house cat, it is the reaction the event brought about in the community that is memorable.

“The real story here is the overwhelming involvement of the community,” observed Fleck from her home this past week.

First noticing Apollo missing on Saturday July 30, Fleck, who is the founder, artistic and managing director of the Brooklyn Friends of Chamber Music group, posted on the Boerum Hill listserv about her missing feline. Unable to call him due to his hearing problems, Fleck posted notices around the neighborhood, featuring a photo of the cat.

As it turned out, Apollo was taken in that same day by social worker Ellen Ervin, where he stayed happily with her pitbull-beagle Smitty for five days at the Pacific and Hoyt street residence.

By all accounts, Apollo seemed content to roam the intersection of Pacific and Atlantic, where he tried to enter a bodega before bounding up to Ervin and Smitty and nuzzling the dog.

“I saw what was obviously no stray cat, looking utterly fearless,” reports Ervin, a social worker who has resided in Brooklyn since 2002.

Apollo was so enthusiastic about making friends with the canine, said Ervin, that he drew the remarks of a passing cyclist, before attempting to cross through Atlantic Avenue traffic.

Ervin, who has owned several cats in the past, gladly took Apollo home after leaving him temporarily at an antique shop. Throughout his many helpers – from the man who rescued him from on-coming traffic to the shop attendants who watched him while Ervin walked Smitty home and returned, Apollo exhibited “no anxiety."

"He is the most mellow cat," Ervin remarked.

Ervin said lots of people in the neighborhood joined the rescue effort.

It was not until Apollo was found that Ervin was told about the posters. She recognized the black and white photo immediately.

Fleck said the response she got from neighbors served as a testament to the strength of the Boerum Hill community.

“Once he was home, I sent an update to the listserv late that night – by the morning my inbox was over-flowing," she said.

Emails came in a steady stream for at least two days, added Fleck.

“The whole community had been following the story!”

The following day Fleck made the rounds removing the missing cat posters as promised.

“People who I had never met before were shouting out of their car windows – 'Is Apollo is back? How is he?' This was up and down the whole block.

It was a very touching element... and it was a great revelation, that we have an enormously strong sense of community – all over this cat!”

As it turns out, the return of Apollo brought Fleck back to the connections and feelings of community that she so appreciated decades ago.

It was 1972 when she first moved to Brooklyn with her husband and two young daughters. Most areas of Brooklyn were notoriously rough at the time, and the house, where Fleck still resides, was little more than a shell filled with debris.

“It was in deplorable shape – we were really starting over,” she recalled.

This was before the days of "Boeurm Hill," when the area was referred to by real estate agents merely as “Brooklyn Heights and Vicinity”. Fleck and her family were relocating from the Upper West Side, and upon a suggestion from a friend, decided to look in Brooklyn for more affordable space in which to raise a family.

In the early seventies, Fleck found herself moving into an area consisting of young parents like herself, mostly with young children, residing on Bond Street and the surrounding area.

“We were almost like pioneers, creating homes and a community. We all looked after each other,” she said.

Neighbors would all get together to discuss common household concerns in back yards.

“There was a real spirit of community. Those were wonderful days.”

In the mid 1980s, the neighborhood saw a significant change with an influx of young Wall Street bankers and lawyers. Brooklyn had been discovered as an affordable housing option, especially when compared to the steep prices of Manhattan and the Financial District.

Further changes were on the way as Brooklyn became increasingly more trendy.

“With a shift to the yuppies – for lack of a better word – everything changed. We began to see young children around the neighborhood again – but this time they were being pushed in strollers by nannies,” she said.

The wave of affluence and shift in demographics continued to transform the neighborhood.

“I remember our shock and horror when we first saw a four story house on Bergen Street selling for $80,000," Fleck recalled.

Today, with Apollo happily nuzzling the newspaper on the dining room table, Fleck was reminded of how grateful she is to be living in a community where people care for one another.

“I've raised three children here, and I've never regretted it,” she said.

She acknowledges that the story is about much more than her missing cat, as happy as she is to have him home again.

Fleck appreciates the continued inquiries from neighbors wanting to know about Apollo: how is his health and did he lose too much weight?

“It took away the feeling that everything is anonymous," she said.

For Ervin,the whole experience reminds her how much she loves her neighborhood.

“I've had a good impression of the neighborhood from the beginning," she said. "This merely confirmed those feelings.”

As for Apollo, he appears happy to be home. It remains a mystery as to how, and why he was able to get out of the house in the first place, but local fame seems to suit him.

The new mascot of Boerum Hill enjoys an open-ended invitation to visit Ervin on Pacific Street and to spend time with his new-found friend Smitty the pitbull.