Imagine a smoke-filled bar, a seedy dive set off the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, Paris. The smell of catnip hung heavily in the air. Tipsy Nip Organic Catnip? Probably. “Made in Vermont, yet available in Paris,” you muse to yourself. Wait, watch out. Look sharp! -the game is afoot.
The waitress slowly approaches. In a slinky voice colored with too many cigarillos and weary with disappointment, she said “Que sera-ce, monsieur?” The words dripped disdain. In all of the bars of the world, you walked into hers. And she had better things to do than cater to….un chat américain. Such is life.
(“Something Blue” by the Paul Horn Quintet played in the background. It suited your melancholic mood as you casually shifted your disinterested gaze her way. She was taller than you first imagined her to be.)
With a shrug, you reply, “San Pellegrino please. One baguette. Lightly toasted. I am Franklin, The Most Interesting Cat In The World.”
She sauntered off in an insouciant manner. She knew you knew she could care less. Ah, the night was young, no? Perhaps it held the promise of…what? Rendezvous?
This, like so many scenes of life, would be played out slowly, carefully. One move at a time. She had played her opening gambit, and you responded with careful aplomb. Whatever happened- there would be no regrets for Franklin this night. Pas du tout.
Johanna W. writes: “I have a series of black and white film photos I took of my cat Frankie that make me laugh, thought you might like them for your site. He is totally posing and trying to look serious and mysterious, but I doubt there is anything going on in his mind… he’s a sweetie but not the brightest penny in the fountain.”