A Cat in Florence

Chapter 4
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“Oh my god, Jenny, it is you,” I said, putting my hand up to my mouth in shock, or perhaps in an attempt to mask the fact that I was saying this.

“Of course it’s me. Who did you think it was, Garfield?”

“Well,” I said, trailing off and staring at Jenny, the cat, my girlfriend.

“Pet me,” Jenny said, rubbing against my arm.

I stroked Jenny’s back and she arched it as I moved my hand gently down her back and then, up her raised tail. She rubbed the side of her head against my knee, purring softly.

There was a loud knock on the door. “Ciao Senore. Prima colazione!”

Jenny jumped down from the bunk. “Make sure there’s milk,” she said, as she hid under the overhanging blanket.

I let in the waiter, who moved quickly to the end of the compartment, pulled down a tray-table and set his tray down on it. As he turned to go he must have stepped on Jenny’s tail, because she protested loudly, “Meow!”

“Che cosa!” the waiter said, jumping back.

“Yeeow!” I said, rubbing my knee. “I banged my knee on the bunk,” I told the startled waiter. Then I handed him ten thousand Lira, which was something like six or seven US Dollars, and pushed him out the door.

I lifted the edge of the blanket and checked Jenny. “Are you okay?” I said.

“That idiot stepped on my tail,” she said, curling her long, beautiful tail around her and licking its tip with her very pink tongue. She then set about doing the rest of her hygiene, starting with her back, which required an Exorcist-like turn of her head, and proceeding to each paw. She lifted a back leg high over her head, looked at me and said, “Can a girl have some privacy?”