It was early Sunday afternoon and I still had to go and look after my friend’s divine cat, Figaro. Figaro’s parents had gone on a small vacation to escape the crazy city of San Francisco. Getting from my modest and simple apartment to their glamorous and stunning condominium was no piece of cake for me. On weekends it was a killer for me to hail a taxi and I had to take a taxi because this glamorous and stunning condominium was on a real killer of a steep hill. But once I arrived at Figaro’s lovely home I quickly forgot about my difficult and laborious journey. 

    As I exited the taxi door, I would often be greeted by one of the charming doormen. Once it was Angelo. Sometimes it would be Mario. Chris always did the early morning shifts. They were my favorite doormen, always very charming and witty. With Angelo we would talk about writing and with Mario we’d chinwag endlessly about books, movies, and, people. Sometimes when I arrived early in the morning, Chris and I would mention about how silly the taxi drivers could be because they could never find the right building.

    After my short chitchats with the doormen, I am a relatively chatty person, I would enter the fancy and luminous elevator which would take me straight up to the ninth floor. Having arrived at the ninth floor, I’d rapidly unlock the large front door, dying to see Figaro and was ecstatically greeted by the elegant and slinky cat that moved like silk between my ankles.

    When I first knew Figaro he was a beautiful, big, black baby doll, an adoring cat, very on  the squishy side. Back then, he was often left alone for hours and was so happy to see me that he would immediately leap into my lap to be held and snuggled. But in his new and elegant territory he would not jump into adoring lap because he knew that he was already adored everywhere and by everyone and he was never left alone for hours or days. Upon my arrival, he would first jump on to the armrest of the creamy white TV sofa because he knew that I would put the small table lamp on and he so loved to feel the warmth of the lamp on his velvety black back. In the beginning it took him ages to get used to his new elegant territory. He would often hide behind the big curtains in his Mamma’s bedroom, tucked neatly away in the farthest corner and away from any strangers or clutter or unfamiliar sounds. It was sad to see this but now he loves his new home and saunters everywhere in his most graceful and debonair way. He is still the most beautiful, black, charming kitty but not the fat and squishy one from before anymore. He went on a super strict diet, run by his mamma, and now has become a truly poised and polished black ball of divine fur with a most interesting wiggly tail and loves to drift and meander away from my loving embraces and tender clutches.

    Occasionally, the doorbell will make its great big loud ding-dong-dell sound and then I’d know that someone would be at the door. I’d quickly put on my slippers and tell darling Figaro to stay put and not be scared and then I’d answer the door. Usually, it would be one of the pleasant doormen bringing up the mail or some UPS parcel for the owners or maybe it might be the unsmiling but handsome maintenance man bringing, with him, the plumber who was there to fix the kitchen sink. But, on that day something totally different happened. Normally, if something out of the way occurred, then my friend would always tell me. At that moment I remembered her telling me that a friend of hers, by the name of Felix, was going to come by and drop off a book about dogs but she never told me that he would actually be coming in and wanting to chat with me and she never, ever told me that he was so dreadfully handsome.

    So… the day the doorbell rang, I thought that it might be the Felix guy arriving with the book. I quickly looked at myself in the mirror, to make sure that I was a bit more presentable looking, and thought, ‘My, what a raggy mess I truly am.’ Remember, I still did not know how very handsome this Felix guy would be. But looking at myself in the mirror to see if I looked OK was something I did for everybody…. plumber, lawyer, rich man, poor man, whatever. I just then noticed that Figaro was nowhere to be seen and I knew that I’d go crazy with worry not knowing where he was. I am a very fussy cat sitter and always have to know just where they are. I also knew that he could not be too far, maybe hiding under the cream colored sofa or the flower sofa ready to give a wee peek to see who might be at the door. Worry or no worry, I went to the door asking, ‘Who’s there?’

    A pleasant voice said, ‘Oh hi… my name is Felix, I’m here to bring a book, your friend told me that you would be expecting me.’ 

    I opened the door and my breath was ripped away from me. Here stood the man of my dreams! He stood there smiling at me and holding a book in his hand. His skin was lightly tanned; his eyes were sparkling emerald green; a shock of wavy shiny black hair covered his head; he wore black pants, a gleaming white shirt and, a highly elegant, must be an Armani, jet-black jacket. He lowered himself slightly and beaming a rapturous smile, with a row of lovely white teeth, said, ‘Hello’ and ‘how are you? Here is the book for your friend, Edith.’

    ‘ Oh… yes….. yes…..oh….. well, ah…’

    Forgetting my manners, I simply stood there like an idiot and dropped the dishtowel on the floor. He kindly knelt down to fetch the dishtowel and handed it back to me ever so pleasantly and patiently saying, ‘You must be Figaro’s baby sitter, right? Edith told me all about you and your devoted love for Figaro.’

    I gave Felix a rather small giggly smile and said, ‘Oh.’

    Suddenly I was reminded of my uncouthly manners and I distinctively remembered that Edith did tell me to let him in as he was only here to bring the book but she never, certainly did not, tell me how truly attractive he was. I thought, ‘Man o man, am I going to tell her what she did not tell me.’ Oh my, oh my, thought I. But she did tell me that he was very nice and worked for the movie business.  

    ‘Oh sorry, sorry do come in…  yes, yes.’ More silly giggly laughs from me. ‘My name is Wilma. Won’t you come in, please.’

    As I said this I wondered WHERE in the world is my Figaro! 

    But I said in a very nonchalant voice ‘Oh, do make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink, water, wine, milk? You must excuse me, I have to see where Figaro is. You know, I get quite worried when I don’t see him.’

    With a glimmer of a teasing smile he said, ‘Oh go ahead, I’ll be fine and I’ll help myself to a glass of water.’

    He looked at the stunning view and exclaimed, ‘Wow, what a gorgeous view they have! There’s the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge over there and, oh wow, Angel Island and Alcatraz Island. Wow, this is a treat. Oh, and Coit Tower and, oh golly, will you look at all those puffy clouds and, man oh man, look at the gray fog rolling along the bay and, all those little sailboats floating on the water. Oh man, it must be so beautiful to see all the shining stars at night! Don’t you agree? I’d love to sleep right here in the living room and watch the moon and the stars and see the sun rise.’

    He looked at me with his piercingly green eyes. I thought, ‘My, he has the most beautiful green eyes. Come to think of it, they are really, really green just.’ But I simply stood there and said, ‘Oh… yes yes.’ 

I thought I had seen a teasing twinkle in his eye but thought it must be the sun or something. For an odd moment I thought his hair and black Armani jacket were dazzling my eyes with glittery black fuzz. 

    I thought to myself, Wilma, honestly, get a hold of yourself! This is just a man, a plain man! Really!’

    But what I really said was, ‘Yes, it is beautiful. I come here quite often, so I guess I’ve gotten used to this view. But I have thought that I’d like to wake up in the morning to see the sun or, hear the splatter of the rain against the windows or, watch the misty morning fog creeping along the San Francisco Bay like a quiet giant tidal wave.’

    Then turning swiftly to me, like a true gallivanting prince, he replied, ‘Oh you know, I don’t live here. I’d love to take the ferry to see Alcatraz Island and the sights or go to Sausalito, have lunch and take a walk with Fia before I go back. Would you care to join me? I would be most honored. We could leave early in the morning, one day soon.’

    I gulped and smiled saying, ‘Oh I don’t know. I have to look for Figaro and Mr. Kitty, my cat, keeps me on my toes a lot. But I have to look for Figaro now.’

    Again he gave me that teasing smile saying, ’Yes, you do that. When you get back, I’ll still be waiting.’

    I turned around and fled to the other rooms, they were not far from each other, and I called out, ‘Figaro, where is my lovely boy? Figaro, where are you? Figaro, Auntie is getting VERY worried! Figaro?!’

    I looked in all his hiding places but could not, absolutely, find him. I was deeply perplexed by this. It must have shown on my face because when I returned Felix, who was sitting in one of the many kitchen chairs said, ‘Oh, don’t worry, you know how cats are when strangers come, they hide in the closet and then they pop out instantly when the stranger leaves. The minute I leave, I bet Figaro will make his sudden appearance. Honestly, don’t worry, Wilma.’

    I looked at him and gave a little frown. He, then, so gently placed his hand on my shoulder and I thought to myself, ‘Uhhhhhhh, how familiar his touch is…. as if the hand was about to say that everything is going to be truly OK. Boy, what bizarre imaginations I’m having today.’

    ‘Hey, Wilma, take it from me, I should know. I have about ten cats at home, all black! Believe me… I can never find them…. it drives me nuts but when its time to feed them… then they all show up at once.’

    Then very suddenly, to change my worried looks he said, ‘Listen, before I leave here’s the book for Edith and her husband. It’s all about the dogs of Muttville.

    ‘Muttville? Where is that?’

    ‘Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.’

    He smiled that familiar, radiant smile at me and said, ‘Well, gotta go. Oh and call me about going to see the sights. Edith will have my number.’ 

    Looking up at him I said, ‘Oh… yes, yes.’

    ‘Yep, I want you to find your Figaro, I can see that you care for him deeply.’

    ‘Will I see be seeing you again? I think it might be nice to go to Sausalito on the ferry and visit my little niece who lives there.’

    ‘Oh, that’s great… I’d like that! I’m a good friend of Edith and the lady who is thinking of running Muttville so you’ll be hearing from me soon.’

    ‘Oh, OK.’

    ‘Thank you for letting me see the stunning view, a real treat for me!’

    As I walked him to the door, he abruptly turned around and asked me, ‘Oh, by the way, do you like the Opera? I work there sometimes… at the Opera House. I could take you out to see the Marriage of Figaro or the Magic Flute.’

    ‘Yes, I’d like that very much.’

    ‘OK then, it’s a deal. Oh… I forgot, there’s another opera with a Figaro in it, it’s called The Barber of Seville and it’s going to be playing soon. The music is by Mozart…. you know, a little bird told me that you like his music.’

    ‘I’d love to see that. Oh yes, Mozart is one of my favorite composers.’

    He looked down at me and said, ‘Mozart is the man. Well, it was nice meeting you and give my best to that lucky cat. Edith is lucky to have you. Not many people care for their friends cat as much as you do.’

    ‘Oh, I love Figaro and have known him for many years.’

He pressed the elevator knob and, quickly, the elevator door opened. He gave me one last enticing smile as the elevator door silently closed after him. But what do you think I saw? The very end of a black wiggly tail!!!!! My first incredulous thought was, ‘What? That can absolutely not be possible!!!’

No sooner had I closed the apartment door and WHO do you think came sauntering by. Figaro, happily gliding like silky water between my ankles, purring vehemently! 

    I lovingly picked him and said, ‘Oh honey, oh Figaro, where have you been, I’ve been so frantically worried about you.'

    Stormy noises of kiss, kiss, kiss was to be heard. 

    ‘Oh my baby, never ever do this again to your Auntie Wilma. She gets so worried.’

    More ardent kisses and loving smooches.

    As I picked him up though, I had a funny feeling, not a bad feeling, just a funny and mystifying feeling. Figaro’s fur felt so fuzzy and gentle just like when Felix had touched my shoulder when he told me not to worry so much about Figaro. Then I thought, again, about that tail and made a mental note to myself about having a serious talk with Edith about WHO is Felix really?