A Cat in Florence

Chapter 9
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After lunch, we went back to the hotel for a nap. I was bushed. Jenny said she wasn’t tired, and I was smart enough not say, ‘You haven’t been carrying a heavy cat all around Florence.’

When we got to the room, I unzipped the gym bag, put it on the floor, and went to the bathroom. Jenny started to follow me in, but I shut the door. “Hey!” she said. “What’s the big idea?”

“Just a minute,” I said.

“Oh, now your shy about having me in the bathroom when you’re using the toilet?”

“I’ve always been shy about that,” I said.

“Yeah, but now I’m a cat,” Jenny said.

After I’d peed, I opened the door and went to wash my hands. Jenny jumped up on the counter and pushed in to drink from the faucet. Then she stretched her paws down and jumped to the floor, where she sat and began her hygiene. “You can leave now. And don’t shut the door on your way out,” she said.

I walked to the window and looked out on the backs of buildings that surrounded our hotel. Wash hung from a nearby balcony, blowing gently in a soft breeze. Jenny padded over and rubbed against my leg.

I went to the bed and lay down. Jenny jumped up and settled on my lap, purring softly. I fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke to Jenny licking my hair. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey yourself, sleepyhead. You ready for our afternoon adventure?”

“I’m ready for anything,” I said, stretching.

Was it the ghost of Cosimo de’ Medici, or perhaps Niccolo’ Machiavelli, who overheard this brash boast? “Ready for anything, ‘eh? We’ll see about that!”