Chuck Is Mesmerized by Paris Streets

Just one of the many bridges that cross the Seine in Paris

Chuck, my very rascally cat, is a big Woody Allen fan. He especially loved Sleeper, Play It Again, Sam, Annie Hall and the recent Midnight in Paris. In fact, his obsessive watching of Midnight in Paris just recently explains, I think, why he suddenly wanted to go to Paris.

Now Paris, the capital of France, has thirty million visitors per year and is the most visited city in the world so who wouldn’t want to hop on a plane or ride through the tunnel and see such a magical place? 

I suspected Chuck wanted to walk the streets, just like Owen Wilson who plays the nostalgic screenwriter, did. Perhaps, he was hoping that mysterious car from a previous century would pick him up and transport him to another time where cats led a simpler life. Perhaps, he was hoping he would meet, then fall in love with a beautiful Parisian kitty . . . 

So with that hidden dream in tow, we hightailed it to Paris, booked a room at the Montparness, and decided to take in the sights of Paris. Of course, we paid homage to the usual big name places that always rightfully attract the tourists--the Eiffel Tower, The Arc of Triomphe, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Louvre. We even paid a quick visit to Les Invalides (the museums and monuments devoted to French military history). But even though Chuck got the usual thrill from seeing such exciting places, something was missing. I could see it in his eyes.

The Eiffel Tower from afar

The Arc of Triomphe

I then dragged my furry rascal to one of my favorite places--the second largest park in Paris--the Luxembourg Gardens, the home of the Luxembourg Palace, where many Parisians come to relax during the weekend or where they come to walk or sunbathe. Chuck, who loves to be outside, walking around, sniffing the grass and the trees, still didn’t seem to be completely satisfied.

Luxembourg Palace

Luxembourg Gardens - the second largest park in Paris

It seems he wanted the streets of Paris--not the monuments and statues, not the museums and churches. He wanted the tree lined streets. 

Statue of Winston Churchill

So we moved at our own pace. No one bothered us. And, no, even though it got a bit late and the sun went down and we were still outside at dusk, the magical car never arrived to take us to another century. Even so, by the time we arrived back at the hotel, Chuck was happy. 

Paris street

One of the many tree lined streets in Paris--this one near the Luxembourg Gardens

He even discovered that he enjoyed the French cat food that I bought at a local store. Although he did a double-take when he saw the label--very artsy-fartsy for a cat food label. After all, Chuck sees himself as just as an ordinary down to earth, run of the mill kind of cat, even if he is a world traveler, hiking around in "Paree".

I just loved the art deco on this can of cat food--I wonder do French people display their cat food as art around their house??

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Gargoyles Trump Joan of Arc in Rouen,France

       

       

When you travel with a rascal cat, things rarely go as planned.

Case in point.  We were in France.  Heading toward Rouen, the capital of the Haute Normandie region, which is in northern France, near the River Seine. If you are up on your French history, you know that Rouen--besides once being the largest and most prosperous city in medieval Europe--was also the place where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in 1431. 

I’d told Chuck the story of Joan of Arc. She was both a folk heroine and Roman Catholic saint who had begun her life as a peasant girl but who claimed to be guided by God and led the French army to several victories, enabling Charles VII to be crowed King of France.  She was captured and executed at 19 years old, but twenty-five years later she was declared a martyr by Pope Callixtus III.

Chuck wanted to see the place where Joan of Arc was laid to rest so we traipsed into Rouen, on our way to her gravesite, and passed the magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral.  

The cathedral has a long history dating back to the 4th century when the first church was present, but over the years, the cathedral has been struck by lightning several times, raided by Vikings, burnt down, blown down by fierce winds, reconstructed, damaged during War, damaged during hurricanes, bombed . . . well, you get the idea.  

           But still the cathedral survived, was transformed and even immortalized by Claude Monet in his painting Notre Dame Cathedral which now hangs in the Musee D’Orsay in Paris.

On our way to see Joan of Arc, Chuck stopped. He was gazing upward at the cathedral wall, with that typical “cat quizzical look” on his face.  He sniffed once, then again, as if he could sniff out what he had spied.

“What are you looking at?”

Chuck couldn’t take his gaze off the wall.

I followed his gaze, intrigued at what was holding his attention. 

Suspended from the wall was a gargoyle.  

             I’d heard about gargoyles on buildings.  They were put on churches to frighten off evil or harmful spirits.

Chuck moved closer to get a better look, and I thought he needed an explanation.

“Chuck, the practice of putting gargoyles on buildings like churches actually started here in Rouen.  Many years ago St. Romanus,” I said, beginning the tale of the France legend, “who was eventually made Bishop of Rouen, had the job of scouring the countryside around Rouen and finding the monster called Gargouille.  Now Gargouille was a typical fire breathing dragon with batlike wings and a long neck.  St. Romanus, smart man that he was, used a crucifix to subdue the Gargouille, and he brought him back to Rouen and burned him. The head of the Gargouille was mounted on a newly erected church to scare off any other evil spirits that were lurking out there.  This was the first instance of a gargoyle used for protection.”

Chuck continued staring at the strange monster-like creature which was plastered on the wall of the church.  

“Are you ready to go see Joan of Arc?”

He glanced at me, and we turned away from the Cathedral.  We walked down the street, when suddenly Chuck stopped again.  He was staring up at a building this time. 

“Chuck, honestly.”

Two more gargoyles reared their ugly heads away from the building.  I had to admit they were interesting to look at.

             Finally, we reached the place where Joan of Arc was laid to rest.  No more gargoyles.

“She was killed a long time ago, and people still come to see her.”

Chuck looked up at me with that disappointed look.

“Excuse me.  People and cats still come to see her.”

And it hit me then, Joan could have used a gargoyle or two for protection.  

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Chuck Goes Up, Up, Up - the Eiffel Tower

     After seeing the Mona Lisa, Chuck wanted to go--up, up, up.  He was determined not only to see the Eiffel Tower, he wanted to ascend to the top of the tower.  Staked out in our room at the Montparnasse Hotel in Paris, Chuck meowed and meowed.  He scratched on the hotel room door, as if he were a prisoner.  

     It seems that he had run off a photo of the Eiffel Tower and stuffed it in his own personal carry-on bag that he brought with him wherever he traveled.  There was a photo of his twin sister, Ella, of course, in the bag, and now clutched in his paw--a glossy picture of the Eiffel Tower, grandiose in the early morning mist. 

     Where he’d gotten that photo from--I can’t begin to guess, but the longer we stayed in this magical city, the more obsessed Chuck became. 

     Finally, on the last morning we were in Paris we agreed to take him.     

     From our hotel to the tower, we took the subway.  And I might as well admit up front, there is never a good time to visit the Eiffel Tower.  

     This tower of steel is always crowded.

     Open seven days a week, tourists constantly mill about.  Some decide to walk up the over 300 steps to the first level and then another 300 steps to the second level.  We decided to take the lift.  But we had to stand in line for what seemed like an eternity.  

     I decided that if we were there to see the tower, Chuck may as well learn all about it.  I told him that the total height of the tower was equal to an 81 story building in New York and because of the antennas built on top, it was the tallest manmade structure in the world.  

     Chuck wasn’t impressed.

     I told him that it was built to celebrate the centennial of the French revolution.  He rolled his eyes.

     Did he know that the names of 72 scientists were engraved on the tower?  He didn’t care.

     I told Chuck--and I really thought that this cool fact would pique his interest--that it took between fifty and sixty gallons of paint every year to keep the Eiffel Tower looking spiffy.  

     But by now, Chuck was hungry, and all he wanted to know was when we were going to get a snack.

     Finally, we climbed on the lift and began to ascend to the top.  

     I thought Chuck would be excited.  After all, here we were-going higher and higher.  The view of Paris--once we arrived--was one hundred percent guaranteed to be spectacular.

     I was wrong.

     The one thing we didn’t figure on was that the  “Belly Boy” was afraid of heights.  When the elevator clanged to a stop (metaphorically), and we stepped out to take in the sight, Chuck froze.  He began to shake.  The poor kid was frightened to death.  Immediately, he demanded to go back down.

     “Just shut those peepers,” I said.  

     He buried his face in the crook of my arm.

     The good news was that Bob and I enjoyed the loveliest view of Paris.  

     The bad news - Chuck did nothing but complain the entire way back to the hotel.  He ripped up his photo of the Eiffel Tower and swore he would never meow about it again.  

     The big baby!   

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Chuck Almost Drowns in Paris Fountain

The Luxembourg Gardens in Paris was not on my “To See List” until I strolled through it on my way to take Chuckie to see the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Calm and peaceful. Beautiful. I was immediately hooked.

Traveling the world with a rascal cat in tow has its challenges.

When we were in Paris, Chuckie’s insistence on visiting the Eiffel Tower was a bit of a disaster. And then seeing the Hunchback of Notre Dame almost led to arrest and imprisonment? So, going to a park seemed safe. After all, the Chuckster loves to be outside and there’s no better park to visit, when in Paris, than the Luxembourg Gardens.

The night before I began building interest for the idea.

“Chuck,” I said, “tomorrow, let’s visit the second largest pubic park in France. Buddy, this park dates back to 1611 and covers acres and acres of land. Think of all the fun you’ll have running around. And for once, cats are allowed.”

Now, cats don’t smile--much--but I detected a gleam in his eye. He looked pleased to hear that he wouldn’t have to spend most of his time squished in my smart bag.

The next morning--super early--we took off for our destination, which luckily, was within walking distance of our hotel. The Luxembourg Gardens is a mega attraction not only for Parisians but also tourists. Its heyday was in the 19th century when the park boasted a marionette theatre, a music kiosk, a greenhouse, an apiary (bee house), an orangerie with sculpure and modern art on display), a rose garden, fruit orchards, and 70 works of sculpture scattered over the grounds.

And even today, the park has over one hundred statues, monuments and fountains--which includes twenty figures of kings, and queens and saints--but we weren’t really interested in all of that. As soon as we arrived, we made a beeline for the “Fountain of the Observatory,” because I know my cat, and he loves the sound of running water.

“You’re going to love this fountain,” I told him. “And just don’t look at the water. There are four statues up there, and each woman represents one of the four continents--Europe, Asia, Africa and America. They are holding up the world and spinning it around. It’s pretty cool.”

Of course, the only thing that Chuck really cared about was the water. He watched it spill in giant torrents from the statues and splash around.

The moment we arrived he was mesmerized.

And I was a nervous wreck.

If there is one thing I’ve learned--expect the unexpected.

It was just like Chuck to want to go over and drink from the fountain.

Now, cats don’t like to bathe in water. Thank God. So I didn’t have any fear that he would jump into the fountain, but cats do unpredictable things, especially when provoked, and even though we had the fountain pretty much to ourselves, I was on super alert.
For awhile.

But Chuckie seemed calm as can be.

He sauntered up, casual like, to the fountain. Continuing to stare at the water.

And I have to admit--it is a majestic sight.

All was well. And, in fact, Chuck started sniffing around, actually relaxing and enjoying himself. The sun had come out and it was promising to be a beautiful day in Paris.

I should have known that things never stay all right for too long . . .

I should have known not to let my guard down . . .

But, seriously, what could happen?

A gigantic dog suddenly appear and threaten to eat the kid?

No, it wasn’t a dog.

It was a butterfly.

Cats can’t seem to resist butterflies.

Sure enough, Betty Butterfly whisked on by the Chuckster and did a few neat little spiral turns around his head.

Chuck noticed her.

Whether Betty noticed Chuck is another matter. She fluttered her pretty multi-colored wings and flew off for a minute, only to return seconds later, and then she flew off again.

Chuck followed. He jumped up, of course, and tried to swat at her, but she cleverly avoided him.

Betty flew closer to the fountain.

I didn’t notice.

Neither did Chuck. He wanted only one thing. To get that Butterfly.
Poor Betty.

Or, should I say, poor Chuck because her flying slowly enticed him to move closer and closer to the fountain.

Soon, she was hovering near the edge and even though Chuck could feel the spray of water on his whiskered face, he plowed forward anyway.

The second it happened, I knew he was in trouble.

But it was too late.

In his efforts to squash Betty, Chuck had leaped onto the edge of the fountain and now he precariously hovered there as she skittled into view.

I don’t even thing he heard my screams of warning.

The poor kid toppled head first into the fountain.

PLOP.

Betty Butterfly disappeared after that.

Deliberate attempt to get her revenge on my cat??

Well, we pulled Chuck out, and now we had no other choice but to return home--our day at the park, slightly ruined.

And, no, I didn’t say anything--like--Did you learn anything from this situation, Chuck?? Because, after all, it’s in a cat’s nature to chase butterflies just as it’s in a butterflies’ nature to entice cats.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is available on Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com.  Recently it was rated 5 Stars by The E Book Reviewers, who said, "At the very core . . . is a multi-level mystery, with plot twists and turns that you never expected. And there is a deep touching love story that grasped my heart and never let go.  This is one book you must go buy now; once you start reading, you won’t be able to put it back down."  

       

Chuck Falls Hard for a Hunchback

It all began when Chuck, my rascal cat, became obsessed with the deformed bell ringer, Quasimodo, and wanted to meet him in person.

He’d seen the movie, and even though I wasn’t sure if he could follow the plot, I knew one thing for sure.

He loved the hunchback scenes. When Charles Laughton, who played the deformed bell ringer “Quasimodo” of the Notre Dame Cathedral, dragged himself across the screen, Chuck sat glued in front of the TV set.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a classic black and white film, released in December 1939 starring Maureen O’Hara as the gypsy girl Esmeralda who is framed for a murder by an infatuated Chief Justice played by Cedric Hardwicke. She is then saved by “Quasimodo” himself, the Hunchback, because she gives him water when no one else dares to show him the smallest kindness.

How can you forget the scene when he faces her and says, “I am not man. I am not beast. I’m as shapeless as the man in the moon.”

Fast forward.

I went to Paris because so many people raved about how beautiful Paris was. Chuck, we later discovered, had a very different agenda. Besides wanting to see the Eiffel Tower, he wanted to meet the HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME.

QUASIMODO HIMSELF.

As if a fictional character from a book, a film, really existed.

In our hotel room in the Montparnasse, I sat Chuck down and tried to explain. “Quasimodo isn’t real. It’s a made up story. If we go to Paris and visit the cathedral, he won’t be there, I promise.”

Chuck stared at me, and tilted his head slightly to the left.

I know Chuck very well. When he does that, he isn’t buying a word I am saying.

I tried another tact. “Have it your way. We’ll go to the Cathedral. After all, we are in Paris. You can see for yourself. No Quasimodo.”

The next morning, bright and early, Chuck was ready to go.

We were not close to the Cathedral, but we were within walking distance if we crossed through the Luxembourg Gardens. Luckily, it was a nice weather day.

Chuck had watched the Hunchback of Notre Dame movie a lot. He knew exactly what the cathedral looked like. And although modern Paris looked a lot different than the 15th century Paris portrayed in the movie, the cathedral looked almost exactly the same--very medieval--even though it went through extensive renovations in the 19th century.

Of course, it didn’t hit me until we were inside and I stopped to light a candle that Chuck was going to expect to go to the top into the BELL TOWER. After all, if you are looking for Quasimodo, you’ll not see him lounging around near the altar. Oh no, he will be up, up, up in the BELL TOWER.

And, of course, the route to the top, to the South Tower, is not easy.

Poor Chuck.

How could I possibly explain to him that the Notre Dame Cathedral is an historic landmark? One cannot wander around at will.

Plus, the place is very crowded.

If you stop to admire something for longer than a second, someone is bound to bump into you.

I could feel the Chuckster rustling around in my smart bag.

He wanted to peek out and scan the cathedral for Quasimodo.

And any minute he was going to expect to climb the 387 stairs and go up to the South Tower, past the gargoyles and the chimeras, designed by Viollet-le-Duc in the 19th century.

We squirreled ourselves in a corner, and I let Chuck sniff around. He was content for a moment. I whispered a few relevant facts in his hear - that construction for the the cathedral was begun in 1163, that it took over 200 years to complete . . .

Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder.

A concerned tourist was trying to warn me that we’d been spotted.

Someone in charge, someone who looked very official with a terrible scowl on his face and a walkie-talkie type instrument in his hand, was making his way toward me and my rascal cat.

I imagine smuggling a cat into the Notre Dame Cathedral was punishable by LIFE IMPRISONMENT and/or DEATH?

And I don’t speak a word of French. Only Italian.

There was only one way out of this dilemma and of this cathedral.

I began to push and shove my way through the massive crowds. Then we disappeared into the sea of faces that swarmed the front entrance like ants.

Some missions--like meeting Quasimodo--the Hunchback of Notre Dame-- are just impossible to achieve.

If Quasimodo was up there in the bell tower, as Chuckie suspected, I imagined he was gazing down as we scampered off. And laughing.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is available on Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com.  Recently it was rated 5 Stars by The E Book Reviewers, who said, "At the very core . . . is a multi-level mystery, with plot twists and turns that you never expected. And there is a deep touching love story that grasped my heart and never let go.  This is one book you must go buy now; once you start reading, you won’t be able to put it back down."  

       

Chuck Gets Culture - He Sees the Mona Lisa

     Chuck has a reputation to uphold. On safari, he is a tough cat. And he likes to pretend he isn’t afraid of anything. Chuck has faced the hyena and the lion, the elephant and the giraffe, and although he may snuggle down a bit farther into my shoulder bag, he’s one fearless little soul.
    But I wanted Chuck to be well-rounded.
     So when we went to France, I thought it was time that Chuck got some culture. I had an idea. In Paris, Bob and I decided to spend half a day at the Louvre, and we made a list of what we wanted to see there. Of course, we didn’t mention this to Chuck. He doesn’t much care for statues and paintings and such. He only agreed to come to France because he wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, and he wanted to taste the mussels, which he’d heard from some of his cat friends were delicious.
     Getting Chuck into the Louvre would not be easy. The museum is crowded and has high security. And Chuck is smart and exceedingly observant. If we tried to sneak him in, he would realize what we were doing.
     We had to trick him.
     Our plan was simple. We told him he couldn’t go. We told him we didn’t think he was old enough or mature enough to see the Mona Lisa.
     In the hotel, he crinkled his nose at us. “Who’s that?”
     We told him about the painting. Not everything. Chuck has a limited attention span. Only the most salient details--that it was the most famous painting in the world, painted by Leonardo da Vinci, 500 years old, and now behind bullet-proof glass. And then we told him about her eyes, how they seemed to follow you wherever you were in the room.
     That did it. Chuck was in. He wanted to see Mona Lisa’s eyes.
     The next day we bought the tickets. Chuck was stuffed into my coat because I couldn’t bring a backpack into the museum. We headed straight for the painting.
     It wasn’t easy. Hundreds of tourists milled about in the tiny space where the painting was hung. And the worst part was--the painting was on a wall far away from where you were supposed to stand, behind a rope, and it was small.
     For such a famous painting, it should have been bigger.
First, Chuck had trouble seeing the painting because people rudely stood in front of us. Then he wanted to move along the rope and have her watch him with her eyes, but you couldn’t stand still, you had to continue to move down the line.
    But I could tell he was impressed.
    For one moment, he purred, which is Chuck’s way of showing total contentment.
     As we were leaving the Louvre, I had to ask him, “Well, what did you think? Was it worth it?”
     He licked his paw, then gave me a snarky half smile. “I supposed so, but can we go see the Eiffel Tower?”


MY PARANORMAL ROMANCE, WILD POINT ISLAND, IS NOW AVAILABLE IN MASS MARKET PAPERBACK AND E BOOK ON AMAZON.COM AND BARNESANDNOBLE.COM AVERAGE READER RATING: 4.8