Figaro the Cat, Across the Alley From the Hotel Puccini

I grew up with opera, but not because I had any say in the matter. My mother was an opera lover, and a good singer herself, although our neighbors didn't always think so. Growing up in an Italian-Catholic neighborhood on Long Island in the 1960's was to be caught between two era's. The parents in my neighborhood moved out to the suburbs after WWII. Their children, the baby-boomers, knew nothing of life in the boroughs of New York City, the Depression, or the War. We were listening to the Beatles and the Young Rascals while our parents listened to Sinatra and Como. Except for my mother. I would get off the bus after school and hear Puccini's La Boheme blasting from my house a block away, and cringe. Again I had to walk the gauntlet, past the stares and head-shaking to get to my front door. I would hear my mother before I ever saw her, singing the part of Mimi, delightfully oblivious to the world around her. Both of her parents were from the same small town in Southern Italy, therefore she grew up speaking Italian in the home. She was Italian through and through, and would have loved seeing Italy before she died. She never did.

When my wife and I visited the ancient walled city of Lucca I didn't know it was the birthplace of Puccini, the composer of my mother's favorite opera. We stayed at the Hotel Puccini, and there he is, on the key fob above. My mother would have been beside herself with joy. When we got settled in our room I looked out the window and saw a plaque on the wall across an alley. Puccini's name was clearly visible so I figured he had stayed in the building next door, or was born there. I don't read Italian, if you do please leave a translation down below.

It was what I saw next -and it has nothing to do with opera, my mother, or Puccini - that caught my attention. It was a kitten above and to the left of the plaque, looking at me. You can see him in the picture below.

After running ragged for over a week, from Rome to Florence, and then to Lucca, trying to see everything, I had become so detached from the little things. The things that bring a smile to your face, like small children with ice cream all over their face, a kitten or a puppy. The kind of thing that makes you slow down, and get a grip on what's important. This little Italian kitten (I call him Figaro) did this for me, and in return I am making him famous, hopefully anyway, on Steemit.

I zoomed in to see this cutie up close but it got a little blurry, even still, you can make out an inquisitive, mischievous look in the kitten's eyes. Yeah, that's right buddy, you get to live within the ancient walled city of Lucca and don't even know how lucky you are. But for cat's laying around comes easy. When I travel I go, go, go. I'm hard to be around because I make itinerary's. I'm terrible. My poor wife was tired, but she didn't say anything, until Lucca. My original plan was to stay in Lucca overnight and leave for Pisa in the morning. She put her foot down, softly, but she put it down. "We are staying in Lucca tomorrow. I want to just take it easy for a day. Ride bikes. Have some fun. We don't have to go to Pisa." I resisted, but only briefly. I knew she was right. Besides, Figaro was staring at me the whole time. It was two against one, so I agreed. "Okay, tomorrow we rent some bicycles, ride the walls, and say screw the itinerary". My wife was ecstatic. That's what makes a happy marriage, honesty and compromise. And those small children with ice cream on their faces, the kind that remind you of the important things? Well, we came across this little Italian girl in Florence after seeing Figaro on the window sill in Lucca. Does she look happy or what? I asked her father if I could take her picture and he smiled while nodding his head in approval. There is still innocence in the world. I just have to remember to stop and look around, because when I do, innocence is usually waiting there for me.

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