WHEREFORE ART THOU ROMEO?
Americans pronounce it RO-me-oh … the Italians say Ro-MAY-oh. And it’s the name of our neighbor Mirella’s kitty. Her grandchildren picked the name … but the family is without a Juliet … Giulietta.
Mirella wanted another cat. Her all-white stud muffin of a cat (Fiocco … Snowflake) was gone, and she wanted another mouser. All black, she said, maschio. As fate would have it, we were going to our vet that afternoon … and as we sat in the waiting room, a young woman walked in with a cat carrier. We oohed and aahed over one another’s pussies (strike that … felines). As we chatted, Laura said she worked for an animal rescue group with our friend, Barbara. Ahh! I mentioned that we had a friend who wanted a male kitten, all black … and she said she thought there was such a kitty available.
I excitedly called Mirella. And when Laura phoned back to confirm, we arranged to pick him up at the vet’s office the next day.


We drove Mirella into town … to met her new fur baby. Six weeks old, he was so cute. It made me want a kitty. (I didn’t have long to wait … within a few weeks, I heard that Bailame’s daughter, Wendy f/k/a Tigger, had had a litter, and a little girl was available. Our Allegra.) The vet tried to encourage Mirella to have him fixed when he came of age … but her husband’s reluctance turned out to have intended consequences.
Now … our Allegra is coming of age, and David kept talking about more kittens. While I love Love LOVE our girls, I was hesitant. For two reasons. First, I know that people stay your friends when you have the first litter of kittens. Gloria said she wanted one while Bailame was still pregnant, and picked out Zorro within hours of his birth … and Francesca fell in love with Tigger, exclaiming “Eccola mia Wendy” when she saw her photo. But with the second litter … and another round of Do-you-want-a-cat? calls and Do-you-know-anyone-who-wants-a-cat? queries … they stop answering the phone. Second, I felt more cats put me on the fast track to Crazy Cat Lady status … years ahead of schedule. The vet reminded us that there were always plenty of kittens, if and when we wanted more. We even considered a dog … especially when I looked at photos of two specific dogs that my friends have. I love them from afar.
When Bailame had her kittens, we had thought about keeping Tigger. Three kitties to four is not as big a change as two to three. We’ve traveled with two … three’s a clowder. David had wanted Annie to have a litter, but she was spayed before she did. So Allegra seemed the perfect addition to our family … Tigger’s daughter (for me) and the next generation (for David). But his mind was made up … he wanted Allegra to have kittens and Romeo was to be the father.
We watched the calendar and the cat We knew the ages of Annie and Tigger/Wendy and, approximately, Bailame at the first heat … so we looked for the signs. I re-googled the question to refresh my memory.
The initial meows were soft … but by the next day, there was no mistaking it. Wait!, I said, wait. Why?, David asked, why? Gestation is nine weeks … if she breeds now, she’ll have the babies while we’re in Sweden or Norway. If we wait until the next cycle … in a week or two … we’ll be home. David paused, thought, agreed.
We spent an agonizing several days. Constant cat-a-walling … trying to escape … butt and tail high. She was on fire. We gave her sexy and sexual nicknames, PG- and X-rated.
But there were no boys.
By the next cycle, we had an idea. If Romeo was no Casanova, we’d go to his house. Carrying Allegra in the soft travel bag, we walked over to Mirella and Piero’s. When we saw Romeo near the porch, we put the bag down. He came over to sniff … we unzipped the bag.
We thought nature would run its course. Instead, Allegra decided to run … scared and confused by the new surroundings. Into the yard, behind the house, then back toward the patio, now through the garden. With Romeo chasing behind. They occasionally paused to look at one another … then resumed running. We tried to corral, coax, cajole Allegra to let us pick her up. Finally, the two-legged creatures prevailed … only one scratched hand later … and we got Allegra into the carrier and then back into our house.
I called Mirella, and told her our attempt at matchmaking was a failure.
The next day, Romeo appeared at our front door. Crying. Loudly. We opened the door … Allegra ran out.

And suddenly there was a new cat, a cat we had never seen before … dark grey and light grey stripes. We impulsively gave him one of the X-rated names we had been using for Allegra. He deserved it. He wasn’t Calvin Trillin … he wasn’t here for the food.
Mr. S and Romeo were rivals … and David was anxious about the planned parentage. But two toms and a queen in heat are impossible to herd. And much to David’s chagrin, Mr. S was the more domineering of the two. But by the next day, however, Romeo was the victor … the erstwhile suitor never to be seen again.
Allegra and Romeo, still amorous, continued to look at one another through every window and door … even the upstairs balcony.
Making sure Mr. S was not around, we opened the door. And nature ran its course. As parents, we watched … prurient (strike that, curious and caring). That’s how we spent the weekend.
Three weeks later, the vet couldn’t confirm or deny.
Four-and-a-half weeks after il weekend romantico … he said yes, there were several kittens in her belly. We looked at the calendar. I’ll make the whelping bed as soon as we get back from our trip. I called Mirella and told her that Romeo would be a father next month. No, she did not want a kitten … but knew me well enough to say, “You’re keeping the all black one, right?” Of course … like my beloved Elli.


It was a Tuesday afternoon when labor began. I took the whelping bed from its out-of-the-way location (hidden, so the others couldn’t get their scents on it) and put it on the floor, but Allegra wasn’t interested. She paced and looked at me and paced for an hour or more. Finally, I took her upstairs to the guest room (Bailame’s nursery and now hers) … whelping bed in hand. I lined it with the New York Times and Die Zeit picked at the airport lounge up for this secondary purpose. Now she was ready.




It was still over an hour before it was her time. I kept reassuring her, saying I loved her and loved her babies. The first one seemed difficult, but arrive she did. And Allegra immediately began licking. The itty bitty kitty appeared to be all black … Romeo’s offspring.
We had to take Duchessa to the vet … and when we got home, there was a second kitten. Grey stripes. We were shocked … and while we knew that a litter could have numerous baby daddies, David was convinced that a dalliance had occurred with Mr. S. I said, and keep saying, he looks like Tigger/Wendy. And now licked clean, the first one was not all black … but a calico, with the colors of her great-grandmother, Bailame. A little while later, the twins were born. Twins because they shared the same sac … one was champagne-colored tabby, the other an orange tabby. I sat on the floor, watching the new mamma care for her kittens. We thought she was done. “Four,” I announced to David in the other room. Until another one appeared … initially, it was almost as if it were one of the others, but no, another. Number 5 … numero cinque. “Five!” I called out. “FIVE?” And soon we could see she had her mamma’s colors … a little girl.





We named Bailame’s doppelganger Aurora … Allegra’s mini me-ow is Betelgeuse. We are keeping them. The boys — Hayden (a type of mango) … Champagne (for his pale beige) … Pinot (because Dorian Gray seemed to macabre) — have found loving homes.
Through the nursery door, Bailame and Annie and Duchessa know there are … others. Once in a while, a teeny tiny paw appears under the door. Duchessa is rather indifferent. Been there, done that. But Bailame and Annie pause at the paw, and hiss or grumble their displeasure. When Allegra appears at mealtime … hungry and in need of a break … they hiss and grumble and bop their displeasure at her, too.



Next step … the introductions. We have the large cage on standby, and will let the little girls meet the big girls, slowly. Slowly.


SKILLET ROASTED CHICKEN
When you want roast chicken, but don’t want to turn on the oven. I learned this sear-then-steam technique from our Tuscan chef-friend, Grazia.
Olive oil
1 whole chicken, split along the backbone
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh rosemary or sage
⅓ cup water or white wine
- In a large skillet with a lid, heat some olive oil.
- Add the chicken, breast side down, and a couple rosemary twigs or sage leaves … cook until golden brown, about 10 minutes.
- Turn the chicken, breast side up, and sear another 2 to 3 minutes.
- With the lid in one hand, add the water or wine, and quickly put on the lid.
- Turn down the heat to low, and cook the chicken for about 40 minutes, until done. (Add more liquid, if necessary.)
- Serve.
Enjoy!
