A Cat May Look at a Castle
Today I took Beppo to the vet for the second of his French vaccinations, which include typhus, an unknown cat disease where Beppo comes from. I mentioned to her that Beppo eats all the time here, stuffing himself with duck and rabbit, petit pois and carrots and green beans, trout and salmon. He’s gained about a kilo since we’ve been here, going from a picky eater cat to a real gourmand. For some reason, she wasn’t at all worried. A cat that eats well is a French cat at heart. If he loves his lapin, his canard, well, he’s just comme il faut. Did she suggest he go on a diet? Did she even weigh him? Mais non!
Would anyone dream of suggesting that this cat get out of the middle of the street, quit blocking the view of the castle that humans might like to have? You guessed it. The French love animals with an impressive devotion that fits right into our lifestyle. Today Shel had a salad made of leftover roast chicken, and Beppo had the skin. When I marinated rouget, Beppo had a few chunks of his own. At home he had absolutely no interest in human food, nor would I have thought to give him any. But here, where dogs attend luncheons in Michelin starred restaurants, pets reign supreme. This attitude is rubbing off on Beppo, even if he did bring in a whopping big rat the other morning. Perhaps rats are some sort of delicacy to a cat, but he didn’t take a bite. He was waiting for rabbit with liver and green beans. I kid you not.