Dominique Lefort struts around his little corner of Westin Pier, next to Key
West’s Mallory Square each evening just before sunset, encircled by a crowd
of onlookers, spewing existentialist contradictions with a heavy French
accent and a maniacal laugh, his clown-like movements so energetic that even
Jerry Lewis would consider them over-the-top.
“Hurry up, take your
time!”
At first, you might easily dismiss him as just another hammy
street performer....that is, until he releases his pets. Then, this crazy
Frenchman, with all his eccentricities and exaggerated theatrics, becomes a
veritable Pied Piper of kitties! His brood of about 8 or so felines
enthusiastically follow his every command, jumping through flaming hoops,
sprinting through the air onto hand-held stools, and many other fanciful
feats, in what may well be Key West’s most fascinating and unusual show:
Dominique and His Flying House Cats.
Dominique,
a native of Brittany, France, first arrived in Key West by way of Montreal,
Canada, in 1984. His entrée as a cat trainer had come some years before, by
way of his daughter, Vanessa. As a little girl, she was fond of her black
and white kitten, Chaton, but apparently delighted in pulling its tail.
Chaton ran to Dominique for protection, and it was then that he realized his
talents for captivating these aloof creatures. Chaton soon became part of
Dominique’s clown act, and thus was borne a collaboration so unusual, it’s
virtually unknown anywhere else. As new residents of the “Conch Republic”,
Dominique and Chaton’s successor, Marlene, found themselves in the
big-time—a locale whose local culture outshined the most dazzling circus
acts.
Dominique soon made good use of the island’s many stray cats. They
came to him to him from all over, often previously abandoned, abused, or
orphaned by hurricanes. He took them in, and they repaid him with a degree
of gratitude only street urchins could muster. It’s true—these cats are in
it for more than just the odd treats he throws their way: they welcome him,
with twitching tails and enthusiastic meows, as one of their own. Today, his
work has been featured on Animal Planet, PBS, and in a documentary DVD
directed by Patric Bateaux, French creator of the L’Oreal ads.
My
initial skepticism at the beginning of his sunset show quickly melted into
rapt fascination as his protégés, Oscar, Cossette and friends
cat-apaulted through the air.
“You can do eet!”
he coaxed them.
“Eet’s all in your minnnd!” And then, the icing on the cake: Dominique selected me from the
audience to help him secure the pole he uses for his kitty high-wire
act! ”
Come over here, take your seat!” he yelled. I didn’t know
if I was coming or going…
Later that evening, while my
friends and I were dining at Cheeseburger Key West on Duval Street, I
mentioned to our waitress that we’d seen the show, and she replied that when
she runs into Dominique in the supermarket, he strokes her shoulder in round
motions, his fingernails digging. “It’s no wonder he gets along with them so
well,” she mused. “He’s just a big cat himself!”
Douglas Eames is a
freelance writer, homespun philosopher and budget bon vivant living on the
sidelines of the excitement of South Beach.
Afterwards, he presented me with a signed picture, with a scrawl
almost as indeciperable as the man himself, but nonetheless, a souvenir
which I’ll always treasure.
