Star Struck Theo at the Spanish Steps

 One of the most surprising things about Rome is that we see so few cats. There are dogs--big dogs, small dogs--especially Dachsunds--but no cats.

Until Theo spots an orange cat, who seems to come out of nowhere, navigating the narrow Roman streets, and heading toward the Spanish Steps. Now, there are a thousand reasons to visit the Spanish Steps, or as the Italians call them "la Scalinata:"

*It is the longest and widest staircase in Europe so it is a sight to see.

*Roman Holiday, that delicious movie with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck was filmed there in 1953.

*The fountain in Piazza di Spagna, the square in front of the steps, contains Fontana della Barcaccia (ugly boat) and was inspired by an ugly little boat that became stranded in that square in 1598 when the Tiber River flooded and the pope at that time wanted to commemorate the strange event.

*The 135 steps, built in the Rococo style, were funded by the French, believe it or not, and lead to Piazza Trinita dei Monti, to a church at the top.

*Italians and tourists collide there for the views of Rome from the top to the street below which is the premier shopping district in Rome.

*The steps host fashion shows and concerts throughout the year.

*There is no sitting on the steps. If you try to sit, for even a moment, eventually you will be roused to your feet by a loud shrill whistle from the police who patrol there.

Theo doesn't care about any of these facts. He sees a cat, the first one he's seen since he arrived. It is a revelation to him because he was thinking there are no cats in Rome. After all, at home, we have cats who visit our patio all the time, lounge on the pavers, stroll through the backyard as if they own the place. We arrive in Rome, and there are no cats.

Until Theo spots this orange big boned cat, who obviously meows Italian . . . I try to explain this to Theo. 

"He's an Italian cat. What will you two meow about?"

But Theo is nothing if not stubborn. So that is how we end up near the Spanish Steps. The first time. Well, actually we end up at the fountain, shaped like that of an ugly boat, with water spewing out from seven different points into the basin that surrounds it. 

The intrepid orange cat jumps up onto the edge of the basin. Is he actually going in for a swim? Isn't there a rule here that forbids cat bathing?

Several tourists begin to notice. This cat seems to have every intention of doing the unthinkable. He's leaning forward and sniffing. He's even bouncing a little, the way cats do before they take the mighty leap. People point and begin to chant. "Salta. Salta." Jump. Jump.

But that cat has no intention of jumping into the fountain and, perhaps, getting arrested and paying a fine. He looks around and then, as if he's not the cause of all the ruckus, jumps down and  saunters away.

I assume Theo will follow him, but he doesn't. Our gangster cat is star struck, like he can't quite believe what he's seen. Such bravado! Such nerve!

I pick Theo up and don't say a word. But we can't help but glance back at that cat. The brave boy is picked up and is now being carried out of the square by a beautiful woman with long dark hair. Probably by his Italian mama. 

Be still my heart. And then I think--that cat looks just like Chucky. It is as if Chucky has appeared to show Theo--this is what an adventure looks like. Go for it! 

Cool.

                                 In honor of Chucky, the rascal cat. 

St. Theo and the Pantheon

 When you visit Rome, there's one place you don't want to miss seeing--the Pantheon. Yeah, it is popular and you have to stand in line. And it's still considered a church so you have to dress decently to get inside--no mini shorts or sleeveless tops. 

Even though I've been inside many times, it is worth going back to see. Truly magnificent. Awe-inspiring. 

Technically, the Pantheon is a former Roman temple and the only ancient Roman building that has remained intact over the centuries. 

Even though it is the third building on the site (the first two burned down) it still dates back to 128 AD. 

The fact that it was a church and, in fact, still functions as a church saved it from destruction. Fear of God. (Tear down a church and who knows what can happen to you.)

When Michelangelo saw the Pantheon for the first time, he said it was designed by angels, not man. Thomas Jefferson modeled his beloved Monticello on it. Famous people are buried in its vault: Voltaire, Rousseau, Victor Hugo (Les Miserable), Emile Zola, Louis Braille, and even Marie Curie. 

But the most fascinating thing to me is when you walk inside, what you see is almost exactly what an ancient Roman would have seen thousands of years ago. You are literally stepping back in time. There are few places like it left in today's world.

The large columns that support the portico weigh 60 tons and were hauled over from Egypt. The dome on the top of the Pantheon is bigger than the dome in St. Peter's. 

I am definitely awe-struck as I walk around, amidst the hundreds of tourists who are also there. Block out the cell phone cameras and the incessant chatter. I try to imagine what it would have been like to see a place like this when you were most likely living in a hut somewhere with no electricity or access to water unless you went to a well.

All of this is nothing to Theo. He wants to go into the Pantheon for one reason only. He's heard there's a hole in the roof. A big hole. And he wants to see it for himself. 

I try to explain. The ceiling or dome portion of the ceiling has a big hole or oculus in the middle, which is 27 feet in diameter. It was put there deliberately to let the sun in (and all the other elements). It is true, when it rains, the rain comes in. 

He looks up and sees the oculus. He is impressed. He's never seen a ceiling with a hole in it before. If he could, he would probably try to climb up and out--onto the roof. 

I try to distract him. There is a beautiful angel statue off to the side.

And behind the statue a fantastic painting. And there's another painting over there. 

I'm not sure Theo hears me. He's staring straight upwards. Can he see something I can't see? Of course, the other reason why there's a hole in the ceiling is that the ancients believed the hole was a conduit to God, a way for them to feel closer to him.

Is that what's going on? 

Is this a vision? Should I be calling him St. Theo? Finally, we have to leave and I reluctantly pull Theo away from his view. No use talking to him about it. I know what he'll say--the same thing he always says:

"I do what I have to do."

Theo Invades the Trevi Fountain

 We are so lucky to find that our hotel--Hotel Delle Nazioni--is literally one block from Rome's famous Trevi Fountain. You make a left out of our hotel, walk down the street and enter a square. The 18th century fountain is behind you, in all its magnificence, spouting cool water, surrounded by historic buildings. 

"Let's just stand here and pose," I tell Dan. "I can't believe we're really here."

Designed by Italian architect Nicola Salvi, the fountain was built with Travertine stone in 1762 by Giuseppe Pannini. It is almost 90 feet high and 160 feet wide, making it the largest Baroque style fountain in Rome, and one of the most famous in the world. 

The fountain was built at the end point of an aqueduct that supplied water to Rome. Supposedly a virgin long ago helped Roman technicians locate a source of pure water eight miles from the city. The aqueduct supplied water to Rome for over 400 years. 

The name "Trevi" comes from two Italian words "Tre vie" meaning three streets. The fountain is located in the intersection of three streets. It has been refurbished, repaired and renovated throughout the centuries.

The larger than life figure that dominates the statue behind the fountain is Oceanus, a Titan God, who represents the source of all fresh water on the Earth.

There are usually hundreds of people milling around the square, staring at the fountain, eating their gelato or paninis (Italian sandwiches) or sipping their cool drinks. The noise level can be deafening when you add in the sound of the fountain. 

It is a sight to see and hear. When we first arrive, we rush to see it amidst the throngs of tourists that are there. Theo takes one cat glance and can't seem to get enough. I know he wants to get closer, and I suspect, drink the water. But that is definitely not allowed.

Everyone seems to know the rules. You can throw coins in the fountain and most tourists do, believing that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you will return to Rome one day. Technically, you should throw the coin with your right hand across your left shoulder while you are facing away from the fountain for the magic to work. 

(One day a week, early in the morning, the fountain is turned off and crews arrive to dredge out the coins in the bottom of the fountain. The coins go to charity. Approximately 3,000 E ($3300) are thrown into the fountain each day which leads to a tidy sum at the end of the year.)

There is a sign not so clearly posted listing all the things you can't do. You must stand near it and squint to read the warnings. The gist of all the do nots are:

Do not eat food too close to the fountain. 

Do not bathe or swim or remove water from the fountain.

Do not clean your clothes or wash your pets in the fountain.

Do not throw anything but coins into the fountain.

Do not remove the coins from the fountain. 

Violators face a hefty fine ranging from 40E to 240E ($44 to $270).

Knowing the world like I do, I know that each do not is a result of someone trying to do it--in the fountain. I march Theo over to the sign and spell out all the warnings. I'm no dummy. All that water splashing downward and all the birds flying around angling to reach that water is like catnip to Theo.

Dan is thinking like I do. "Can we trust him?"

"Absolutely not."

"Yeah, I'll keep ahold of him."

Ha. Easier said than done. When Dan has his I phone with him, all he wants to do is take photos--which is impossible when he's holding Theo. After a few minutes, down Theo goes.  And he's off . . .we lose him in the crowd. 

"He's headed for the fountain."

Sure enough, he's slipping and sliding through the crowds with every intention of climbing onto the edge, leaning over and drinking that water.

Violation!!! He will be sure to attract attention. A crowd will gather around him. I can picture it now. I can hear the chanting: "Drink, Theo, drink."

The carabinieri (Italian police) will arrive and we will be fined--big time.

That nightmare doesn't happen. And I am oh so wrong, according to the gangster cat. Theo just wants to get a better look at the water. That's his story as Dan carts him away. 

"Theo, how could you?"

He glances back at me. "I do what I have to do."

A cat is a cat is a cat. No doubt about it.

Theo Meets King Vulture

      Tortoises? Yes. Monkeys? Yes. Giraffes? Yes. Big Cats? Yes. Theo, the gangster cat, is curious about all of them. But . . . let him spend a few minutes with birds or in a bird sanctuary and you have given Theo a one way ticket to heaven.

        What? Cats and birds? I know what you're thinking. I love cats and I love birds, too. In fact, I'm a card carrying member of the Audubon Society. Does Theo feel the same way? Probably not. It's a species thing. Call it natural instinct. 

        Nevertheless, sanctuary birds are safe. They are sequestered from animals and humans, but Theo can see them and smell them and watch them.

         At home, Theo will spend hours looking out our supersized patio door watching birds. We have robins, bluejays, cardinals mostly flying about and perching and tiptoeing on the patio itself. Sometimes these little flying bits of magic get so close to where Theo is waiting, I don't think they even realize that only a heavy duty screen is keeping them from being pounced on and loved to death.

   

          Theo, for his part, is super quiet. Most often he's hunched down, his focus like a laser beam, cutting through the air, aimed at his victim, ah hem, I mean aimed at a flying friend.

          So we're going to a bird sanctuary to see nothing but birds--unusual and exotic birds, well, that beats even a snack.

          As we're walking toward the sanctuary, I spell out the rules to this little gangster. No bird attacking, eating, bullying.

          "Remember, we're guests here. Very special guests. We must be on our best behavior."

          Is he even listening? He's so focused on getting there, he's literally bouncing along beside me. 

          Then we're sidetracked. Dan spots a sign for a King Vulture. Outdoor cage. And there King Vulture is in all his magnificence. Theo seems to have no fear. He marches up to the oversized enclosed area and stares in. I'm more worried about Theo's survival at this point than the bird's. A cat versus a vulture? 

           My imagination takes over. What if that vulture finds some way of escaping from that oversized cage? Is there even a top to this cage? I clearly remember being in a zoo in Lisbon where the cages had no tops. Monkeys were free to come out of the cage at will and swing around on the branches of the trees as unsuspecting visitor was walking along. That freaked me out.

           It's all about expectation--monkeys are supposed to be in cages, not dangling above your head, touching your hair, as you walk along.

           I crane my neck and look up. Yes, there is a top to this cage. I tell myself there is no way that this vulture can fly out. So, let Theo wander as close as he wants.

           "This is a King Vulture," I manage to croak out, tamping down my worry. "They can live up to 40 years, Theo."

            Theo steps even closer as if he intends to check out the amount of wrinkles on this vulture's face. 

            "Isn't he beautiful?" I point out. The colors are magnificent. But then I remember cats can't see all that many colors. 

           Nothing much happens at first. The vulture stares at Theo, and Theo stares at the vulture. I'm ready to rescue Theo if that vulture makes one move closer, but he doesn't. I'm hoping he'll open up his wings.

           I should have been more focused on Theo. He's the one that makes the first dangerous move. He puts his paw right up to the screen and keeps it there. At first I think it's stuck, similar to when his nails get stuck on our patio screen at home. But he's not stuck. He's reaching out.

           King Vulture is watching. Probably imagining Theo in some fancied roast cat dinner. What if that vulture puts one of his talons through the screen? I step closer. The holes are pretty small. Would that even be possible?

          Theo is not concerned. His paw is there--a kind of welcoming sign--as he sniffs the air.

          We wait (and trust me I'm ready to whisk Theo up at the slightest sign of danger.) 

           In the movies the vulture would have come closer. But this is real life, and that vulture is more than content to stand his ground further back. Finally, Theo takes his paw down. I feel bad.

           "You tried," I whisper. "Remember you can only control your own behavior. You're getting more like Chucky everyday. Mr. Ambassador."

           Theo is not nostalgic. He shrugs, "Mom, I do what I have to do."

           And that's okay.

           STAY TUNED TO PART II WHEN THEO ACTUALLY VISITS A BIRD SANCTUARY! 

         

          

The Giant Tortoise

        I must admit that I'm the cause of this obsession. Theo announces, after I  have spent too much time talking about them, that he has to see a turtle. Not just any turtle. He wants to see the kind of turtles that I remembered when I was a kid. At Turtle Back Zoo.

      "You could ride on their backs," I tell Theo one night when I'm reminiscing. "That's how big they are."

       We have a few photos, but a photo of a big turtle on your iPhone doesn't quite set the stage. You have to be there in person. You have to look a turtle in the eye, watch him crawl so slow he's almost standing still. And you have to watch him eat. 

         Theo does nothing slow. He zips around the house. He gallops like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. He wolfs down his food as if any minute his brother Mico will sneak up from behind and snatch it away.

         I think that that's why Theo is so entranced. We stand outside an area where turtles roam, encircled by a fence, but Theo doesn't seem to mind. I assume he wants to ride one. (That will present a problem.)

         But, no, he is literally entranced just being there. 

         The turtles here are old. They're not prehistoric, but they look like they can be. Their skin is wrinkled. Their shells have lost the shine that you see on any supermarket fruit. If they were people, we'd suggest a diet to help slim down their fat, pudgy legs. But everything that we humans fight to avoid, turtles inhabit with glee. 

         There are four girl turtles here: Wilma, Betty, Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle Dum. Wilma and Betty are over 50 years old. The Tweedles are younger--in their early thirties. Each one weighs between 180 and 300 pounds. Officially, they are part of the "Aldabra Giant Tortoise" family. We do our research and discover the largest Aldabra Tortoise weighed close to 700 pounds. The Aldabras are some of the largest tortoises in the world. 

          Theo continues to stare. 

          Giant tortoises used to live on many of the western Indian Ocean islands and on Madagascar. Back in the day, they lived on every continent with the exception of Australia and Antarctica. By 1840, however, they're the only species of giant turtles to survive the overexploitation by European sailors. They are not endangered, but their existence is fragile.

           "Did you really ride one?" Theo asks.

           I nod, none too proud of what was allowed years ago. "But that isn't a good thing. They're not horses."

           Theo tilts his head, then actually moves closer to the fence, close enough so he can sniff them. I believe cats really never truly understand anything until they sniff it.

           I know little about giant tortoises. Suddenly one of the tortoises starts to amble towards Theo. I slowly back away.

           The journey to Theo is slow. Each foot lifts as if it is encased in cement. Eventually, he is standing within a few feet of my valiant gangster cat. 

           Theo presses his nose against the fence. The turtle looks up. He is quite beautiful in a wrinkly kind of way. 

           Nothing dramatic happens. Theo doesn't leap over the fence. The turtle doesn't clamor to get out. They just gaze at each other. I'm reminded of that phrase close encounters of the third kind, when two species coming together.

            Later I have to ask Theo, "Did you want to be friends?"

            Theo looks askance. 

            "You got up so close . . ."

            "I had to do it, see?" 

            

            

Animals in Danger

        We're on our way to the zoo. It's part of the payback for convincing Theo (our gangster cat) to help us during the missing Mico sink drainer incidents. Snacks were involved, of course. But a trip to the zoo to see the "special animals" is part of the deal, too. 

      The conversation went something like this:

      Theo: I want to see them, see. 

       Dan: Yes, of course. We'll take you to the zoo so you can see them face to face.  

       Theo: And save them.

       It's hard to know what's rolling around in the mind of a cat. Sometimes it's obvious--that plaintive meow usually means he wants a treat. Other times, his desire to save them makes no sense at the time. 

       We are within driving distance of the Philadelphia Zoo. It is one of my favorite places to go. I love animals. All kinds of animals--especially the big cats and the giraffes. And the monkeys.

        This time, however, we are going to see the "special animals." Or in adult speak, some of the endangered species. In danger of becoming non-existent. Whose habitat is threatened. 

         You have to go inside a building at the zoo to see them. You walk down a hallway which seems to me like you're walking down death's row. I am acutely aware of what these animals face. Their chances of survival. Theo is with us, but I'm not sure how much he understands. Dan has him in a special carrier so our curious and concerned cat can see these animals up close and personal. 

          We arrive at the first exhibit. The Pied Tamarin is described as being bald, beautiful and in trouble. They live in the forests of Brazil, in forests which are being destroyed. Species in Danger in red ink catches our attention. 

                   We try to explain to Theo that if the forest trees are knocked down, these little guys will have no place to live. He seems to understand. He's looking very intently.

             "Like the squirrels," I point out. He knows what squirrels are. 

          We move on. The Francois langur hails from China and Vietnam. A new baby Quy Bau was born in 2020 and has thrived. Baby Lei was born in 2021. Zoos help with breeding so endangered animals survive. We catch the family on video acting a lot like monkeys.

            Theo enjoys watching the langurs swing around in their cage, but as we move on, he gives me a soulful look. 

           The Rodrigues fruit bat is another species in danger. These bats roost together during the day, but during the night they disperse and seek out the juice of ripe fruit such as mangoes and figs. Contrary to popular folklore, they do not suck blood. They are also endangered, of course. 

           At first, they're difficult to spot, but I can tell the moment that Theo sees his first fruit bat. It is a sight to see as he slowly opens his large wings to stretch. 

           "Are bats like birds?" he asks.

           The easy answer is best. "Well, they can fly like birds."

 

       We figure one more "special animal," before we move on. All the White Faced Saki Monkeys don't have white faces, only the boy monkeys. They are usually calm and quiet until they aren't. They can puff up their fur and bounce up and down on branches when they're doing their territorial call. They live in South America.  

              

           It's time to go and we begin to head toward the door, but Theo squirms in Dan's arms and manages to drop to the floor.  

 

           "Theo, what is it?"

           Theo is a cat of few meows. He looks over at the White Faced Saki Monkeys. "We need to save them, see?"

           Now I get it. He thinks these Saki Monkeys are literally the last ones . . . I turn to Dan and squinch up my face. How do you explain to Theo that the problem of endangered species is much bigger than saving one family of White Faced Saki Monkeys? 

           As we ponder our dilemma, Theo moves over to their cage. He cases the joint, looking for a way to jump up. He sniffs every nook and cranny. 

           "These monkey are safe," we say. "But other Saki monkeys need some help."

  

           He shoots us that look, the kind that teenagers give their parents when they think they're full of it. I expect him to meow, "Whatever."

          "We can send food." (Make a donation.)

          Dan hoists Theo up so he can get closer, and he presses his face against the glass. 

          We leave the building with mixed feelings. On the one hand we're so proud that our furry boy cares. On the other hand, the three of us wish we could do more.

           Later, back at home, I wax philosophical at Theo. "We know what's going on. Now we can let other people know."

           "It's not fair, see?"

           And Theo is absolutely right.

           

             

Behind the Scenes - A Birthday Surprise

     I first spot them conniving (?) discussing something in hushed meow whispers on the landing outside our bedroom. There-huddled-they seem from a distance to be engaged in deep plotting. Theo is surrounded by Mico and Sienna. As I move closer, they disburse, immediately involved in other pursuits. Sienna stretches on one of the smaller cat trees in the hall. Mico wanders, devil may care, into the guest room. Theo is the only one who stands his ground.

      At that moment I don't know that Theo even knows how to read a calendar or even what a calendar was. He's a gangster cat of few words and the word calendar in English or Italian (yes, we speak a lot of Italian in our house) never springs from his lips.

       So, how does he know that a certain birthday is on the horizon? Is he pretending to be asleep but really eavesdropping on conversations?

        Birthdays are pretty special at our house. We plan an event. We go out to dinner. Sometimes we stretch the day to a weekend and call it a Birthday Weekend Celebration. 

        But, even so, I'm not particularly suspicious. Usually when the three of them gather on the landing, it's because they're hoping to crack us. Theo meows, a soft pitiful cry, that will convince anyone to do anything. SNACKS. That's what the cry is all about. Yeah, he may be a ruthless gangster cat who struts around on little cat feet with a swagger, but he can't live without his snacks. And the landing is directly outside the guest room, which the three of them have taken over and made the cat room. They know where the snacks are. They know three small glass bowls wait empty near the cat tree. 

        "It's only ten o'clock," I announce, "in the morning. You just had breakfast. You know the rule."

       But, honestly, there is no rule. The giving of snacks in our house is arbitrary. Dan is an easy target. He will cave to Theo's first meow. I'm tougher. Well, a little tougher.  So, I'm fooled initially. 

        Here is the video of that encounter. You tell me if they don't look oh so innocent.

       Only later do I notice something odd happening. On any given day the house is scattered with toys. Cat toys. Mice and anything else that even resembles cat prey are in every room, on every floor, in every doorway. They litter the stairs. They are on the master bed. They are even on bathroom counters. 

        Slowly, but surely, they start to disappear. Sure, I pick them up and return them to the cat basket. This disappearance of cat toys is different. It's done stealthily. If you blink, a toy will disappear. 

         You might think I'm exaggerating, but I'm a verified eye witness to the cat toy disappearance. Notice Sienna, the spy like way she's hiding herself under the drape, the tell-tale paw and the toy object before it disappears.

         

          What's going on? 

          Days slip by and more and more cat toys disappear. I'll catch Mico posed next to one of his favorite toys, and then nothing. Mico poses alone.

          I ask Dan, "What do you think is going on?"

          He looks at me as if I'm the crazy one. "Going on?"

          "Where are all the cat toys?"

          But he's busy reading his article for Italian class or practicing Bach on the piano. "Do we even have cat toys?" he finally asks.

          I resort to desperate measures. Interrogation of the third degree. I use the flashlight on my iPhone and shine it directly into the eyes of the gang of three. "Where are the toys?" 

          The three fur babies stand firm.

          Finally, in a gush of desperation, I peer under the guest bed with my flashlight. There carefully piled into an old basket, like some offering to the gods, are all the toys that no longer litter our house. 

         "Hey, what's this?" I ask Theo. Then Sienna. Then Mico. 

          My three rapscallions circle around, but no one says a meow. I'm on my stomach with the light from my cell phone. Gosh, now I see it. A bow drapes triumphantly across the basket of toys reading Celebration.

          A birthday surprise gift of all the fake mice they carry around and pretend to annihilate? Or are they just cleaning up the house to make mom happy? 

          I'll never know.

           

Three Rapscallions And the Partial Eclipse

    I'm a big fan of eclipses. I've never yet seen a total eclipse--where the world around you turns totally dark--but I never miss the chance to see what I can see when the fateful moon lands in front of the heavenly sun. The area you're standing in darkens. You look up and that usually round sun is no longer round--now it has taken on the properties of a partial moon--that tiny sliver that sits so confidently in the sky.

     It's exciting. It's magical. Even though I know it's science, pure and simple. Back in the day my dad, an electrical engineer, ran a company to market his products, his inventions. Some of those electrical trancells and diodes ended up on NASA rocket ships. I have a fond memory of sitting in our living room, staring at the tiny television screen, when Neil Armstrong, an American astronaut, landed on the moon. I felt proud. My dad was helping make that possible.

     So I've always been infatuated with the planets, the moon and those things we strive to understand more about. And, yeah, I guess I did my fair share of talking about the eclipse.

     The three rapscallions, who usually only seem to be listening when there is talk of a snack, must have been tuned in. Because . . . just as the eclipse was launching a show, the three of them lined up at the patio door to look outside. Theo, Mico, and Sienna, the three rapscallions.

      I'd warned them they weren't going to see a full eclipse. I told them that New Jersey was not in the pathway that ran from Texas to Maine.  Still . . .

      Was it pure coincidence that they were lined up as if I were giving out snacks, patiently waiting, looking out over our patio and then up . . . 

       Clouds rolled in, but they didn't obscure the beauty of the moment. You could see the sun--that unusual sliver of the sun--as it fought to maintain its presence in the sky. The moon continued to move in front of it, but the sun fought valiantly to shine through. And then it faded from sight.

        

       Later, when the sun reappeared, I asked Theo why they wanted to see a partial eclipse. He's a pure tabby of few words. First, he jumped onto a table and glanced out the window. "I had to do it, see?"

        I understood exactly what he meant. 

Bad Boy JoJo and the Play Gym

      T he news thrills us! My niece Leah is having a baby. We can't wait (my sisters and I) to drive down to North Carolina to go to her baby shower. 

     Baby showers are the best! All those cute outfits--miniature golf attire or baseball caps--yes, she's having a boy--inspire a room full of ooohs and aaahhs. 

     At first, I don't even think of bringing Theo along. After all--baby shower? And truth be told, he has no interest in miniature outfits or ooohing and aaahhing anyone. But he knew that besides Leah and Michael (and the baby), there are three other meows that live there--Vera, Plum and JoJo. Theo has no interest in the girls. But he desperately wanted to meet JoJo face to face.

    He'd heard things. JoJo is what we call a bad boy. Always into trouble. The day of the shower was no exception--knocking things over, disappearing with whatever was put out for company. Finally, my sister Caroline had to put JoJo under lock and key. A time out. 

    "Are you sure you want Theo to meet JoJo?" Leah asked. "He's a real handful and who knows what could happen."

    I considered. Could one meeting with a bad boy cat change Theo's personality? Yeah, we call Theo the gangster cat, but he's as sweet as pie. 

     Be positive. So there we are arriving at my niece's house. The three of us. Oh, excuse me. The four of us. Three humans and a cat.

      The food is delicious. Games are designed--guess how many M&Ms are in the baby bottle and design a block for the baby to play with. 

       

And while I keep busy, Theo sulks. He keeps giving me the stink eye. He wants to meet JoJo. He marches up and down their  stairs, then finally settles down. (This is Theo's version of the events later relayed to Mico and Sienna.) 

       

 

      Finally, JoJo is let out. Theo has just come down the stairs for a snack when JoJo appears in all his glory at the top of the stairs. 

          I could tell you that the room gasps. But that wouldn't be true. Everyone is so into the shower, no one notices JoJo being let out. 

       Except Theo, of course.

       

           And there they are--sniffing and eyeing each other up. They disappear up the stairs for a moment, and I can't help but think they are hatching some kind of plot to overthrow the baby shower. Now, I feel partially responsible and rush up the stairs. The two of them are huddled together in the nursery. The new baby play gym  is turned completely upside down.

          "What happened here?" I demand.

           JoJo doesn't say a meow.

           Theo meows very softly, "I had to do it, see?"

           "Had to do what, Theo?"

           The plot slowly unravels. JoJo has talked Theo into climbing into the new baby play gym. JoJo figures if Theo (all ten pounds of him) can fit into the gym, the baby can too. 

           "That's when it tipped over?"

           I quickly upright it. 

           "Is everything okay up here?" Leah has suddenly appeared like magic in the doorway.

          I can turn the both of them in, but why spoil my lovely niece's baby shower. 

          "Oh, yeah. The boys are bonding. And JoJo is telling Theo all about the baby."

          Leah smiles. "Good boy, JoJo."

          When she's gone, I rush over and wipe the gym clean of all Theo's cat hair. "Stay out of that baby gym. I'm surprised at you. You could have been the hero here."

          Theo rolls his big eyes. "Mom, you don't understand. I had to do it, see? JoJo pressure."