Chuck Meets His True Love at Antigua's Darkwood Beach

Darkwood Beach in Antigua in all its glory

           But had Chuck really changed?

How many of us make New Year’s resolutions--quite sincerely--only to break those very resolutions--just days later?

Not that I believed that salamanders on Antigua were in any real danger from Chuck.  But the heart of the resolution that Chuck had made centered on being better behaved--showing respect for others.  

We could only wait to see if our rascal cat had learned his lesson.

We were only visiting Antigua for a week, but one of the things we were eager to do was tour the island, get to know the people, and see the sights so we hired a guide to take us around.  

The best tour guide on Antigua . . . his name was Almond Peters and he was the founder/owner of Pelican Safari : www.pelicansafari.com

           He picked us up at our villa and took us around the island--showing us not just the usual touristy sites, but introducing us to the local people so that we could get a feel for the island.

Chuck, of course, came along -- peering out the back window of the van, mesmerized by the sights and sounds of this beautiful island.  

Our first real stop was Darkwood Beach.  Now Antigua has over 365 beaches on the island, one for every day of the year, but Almond said this was his favorite.  He declared this beach to be the most beautiful of all the beaches on Antigua.  We stepped out of the van and couldn’t believe how pristine white the sand on the beach was, how greenish blue the water was, how crystal clear the sky overhead was.  The place seemed almost surreal.  

The white sand, the blue green water, the perfect sky

Now I’m a Jersey girl and I’m used to the Jersey shore, but nothing on the Jersey coast can compare with Darkwood Beach.  

The gentle waves slosh onto the beach

I was almost afraid to blink.  Was it some kind of fantastic illusion created that would disappear if I broke my concentration?

But, no, it was real enough.

There's a restaurant with a bathroom and changing area

That visit to Darkwood Beach was my first clue to the magic of Antigua.  The beauty of the island can seduce you into wanting to live there permanently.  

Almond wasn’t just a terrific tour guide--in that he knew everyone and knew all the facts and figures of the island--he also was an interesting person.  He’d had the opportunity to live in the United States.  In fact, he’d spent time in New York City, working construction, but although the economic opportunities were greater in the states, he’d chosen Antigua because he felt his life style would be better. 

As I sat on the beach and gazed out over the water, I was beginning to understand his decision.

Rustic but also convenient and if you miss the tourists who arrive from the cruise ships, you can have the beach all to yourself . . . 

          And I guess you can say I was so mesmerized by the beauty of my surroundings, I forgot for a moment that Chuck, the rascal cat, was with us.  Now Bob is a beach person, too, but not as much as I am.  He can't sit for hours the way I can and just gaze out at the horizon.  He's a bit more restless.  And, Chuck, well, he was a bit picky when it came to putting his paws onto the sand.  

          Chuck loves the New Jersey beaches because, well, there are always interesting things washing up on shore.  Here, the beach was so pristine there was nothing but sand.  Well . . . almost nothing because I saw Chuck become instantly focused--not on the water or the sand but on the restaurant behind us, and the buildings which lay just off to the left.  There were bathrooms and changing areas.  And . . .

         Chuck saw her before I did it and before I could issue my usual warning about interacting with an Antiguan cat, Chuck took off across the sandy area toward the restaurant, past it to that very area.  

         Cat fight?

         But no.  Luckily, this little beauty was more a lover than a fighter.  Chuck stopped a respectable distance away and then proceeded more slowly.  Eventually the two of them moved closer together and after the requisite amount of sniffing, Chuck sat down next to her.  

         Had Chuck made a friend?

         I thought this was truly remarkable until I approached this exquisite brown and white tabby, and she began to purr.  

         One of the guys from the restaurant explained, "She's Lady.  She lives here."

         Of course.  Thankfully, not a stray cat.  And when I looked at her more closely, she did have a rather regal air about her.  

         "Well, Lady, you certainly do have a beautiful home."

         We could have been in  garage for all Chuck noticed.  He was happy and content.  The waves sloshed on the beach.  The sun shined.  The breeze blew, but Chuck had eyes only for Lady.  

         We stayed for awhile until it was time to go.  Reluctantly, Chuck purred goodbye and climbed back into the van.   Heart broken??  He's a handsome cat.  Cat in every port???  Almost.   Such a rascal.  

Chuck "Sings" With Evita

The Evita Poster announcing our arrival at the Marquis Theatre in NYC

               

               I make no secret that I’m a Jersey girl, born and bred.  And, I suppose, that Chuck, my rascal cat can be considered a Jersey boy, too.

One of the advantages of living in New Jersey--the so-called Garden State--is its proximity to New York.  Once Chuck and I returned from our trip to China, we decided to quickly undertake another perilous journey.

Where? To the BIG APPLE. The city that never sleeps.

I wanted to see the musical that everyone was talking about: Evita.  Because I’d heard that Ricky Martin was playing the part of Che, one of the main characters, and Bob and I had seen said pop singer years ago in concert in of all places--the Lisbon Zoo.  

Peron and Eva

Well, not exactly in the zoo.  The Lisbon Zoo had a kind of amphitheatre attached to it where performances were given, and it was just our luck to wander in at the exact moment one day when Ricky Martin was on stage performing one of his greatest hits--La Vida Loca.

It was an electrifying moment.  And maybe it was nostalgia, I’m not sure, but Ricky Martin was partly the draw that pulled us into the city to see Evita.  

Chuck--who is not a big fan of musicals--wanted to see Restaurant Row.

Because--you guessed it--when you saunter down Restaurant Row, you are accosted by some of the most delicous smells in all of New York City. In those few square blocks you pass a wide variety of eateries, and he’d heard stories of how fabulous the cuisine was in New York.

So . . . we compromised.  We’d see Evita and then have dinner in one of the fave restaurants.  

Walking through Restaurant Row on the way to the theatre

We rarely drive into the city.  We either take the train or the bus.  This time we caught the bus from Bloomfield and drove into the Port Authority in plenty of time for the Wednesday matinee at 2 p.m. 

It’s a short walk to the theatre, and it was quite exciting to see the large posters advertising Evita coming into view when you arrive at the theatre.  Posters used to be the best way to advertise in the theatre a hundred years ago--before television and radio and the internet.  In fact, the great Czech artists, Alphonse Mucha, launched his own career and that of stage actress Sarah Bernhardt in Paris at the turn of the century by creating posters for her in the Art Nouveau style, advertising her performance in various plays. 

Chuck hardly noticed the Evita posters, but he went bonkers for the large escalator that we rode to reach the theatre.  

EVITA .

Now I can imagine what you’re thinking. Are you crazy to bring a cat into a sophisticated place like a Broadway theatre?  But luckily we didn’t have the best of seats.  We were sitting towards the back of the theatre, and I was very careful to keep Chuck well hidden in my bag until the lights went down.   And for cat as jumpy as Chuck usually is, he was remarkably well-behaved.

For the first act.

Evita is all about the music.  

Don’t cry for me, Argentina.  

     I kept my promise.  Don’t keep your distance.

I can only explain what happened next--Chuck’s partial breakdown in the second act--by suggesting that, perhaps, the music got to him.  

Imagine the stage beautifully lit up, dancers twirling around, the music blaring through the theatre . . . and my rascal cat--I think this is what happened--must have gotten so excited--he began to “caterwaul” with the music. 

At first, you couldn’t hear him because the music resounded through the rather intimate setting of the theatre, but then you could . . . hear him.

“Shsh,” I said.  “No singing.  You’re not on stage.  You’re not the star.”

Immediately, he quieted down because for the moment the music stopped.  

But in Evita, one song leads into the next.  The entire play is a story set to music. So another song started and, of course, the “caterwauling” started.

The sets, the staging, the singing, the costumes--fabulous

“Chuck, did you hear me?  No singing.”

But he seemed to be a cat possessed.  

“Chuck, stop singing.”

But he couldn’t seem to keep himself from making noise.

Bob tapped me on the shoulder.  “Is that Chuck?”

“I can’t get him to stop singing.”

“I wouldn’t call that singing,” he said.

“What are we going to do?”

There were two ladies in front of us who were beginning to shift in their seat.  They were beginning to notice something.

“Snacks,” Bob said.

The magic antidote to all Chuck’s problems.

I reached into the outer pocket of my bag.  Thank God.  Temptations.  Half a bag remained.  Just in case of an emergency.  

I stuck my head into my smart bag.  “Chuck. Snacks.”

In mid note, all “caterwauling” ceased.  We were saved.

The lesson learned was: 

A CAT CANNOT CATERWAUL AND EAT SNACKS AT THE SAME TIME.    

To read more adventures about Chuck, log onto www.katelutter. com.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available in ebook and paperbook formats from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.