My parents cat, found out that I had told a story about Brie. He was in a bit of a sniff about it, so I decided that I would give him one minute, out of his fifteen minutes of fame.
My parents had a friend staying with them over a weekend, 12 years ago and hey decided to take her to a lovely restaurant in the country. As they got out of the car in front of the restaurant, a very handsome young black and white cat came running towards them purring loudly, he followed them up to the door of the restaurant, then disappeared into a group of other cats. My parents were curious and asked about the cats, they were told that the black and white one had been dropped off in front of the restaurant and that the others were feral cats. They also said that they would be delighted, if Mother and Dad would take the little black and white one home, as he needs a good one. After dinner, the little one came up to them just as they exited the restaurant and was scooped up by my Father as he said “come with us little one, you now have a new home”
They named him Figaro, as he loves to sing, he does that with various types of purring, from soft to very loud, accentuated with an occasional meow. The first time I met him he came right to me and my Mother said to him “meet your sister” and I replied, barely heard above the loud purring, “hello Brobro”, since then that is what some of us call him. Well it is a lot better than Hub Cap :)(see Shadow in The Night)
Figaro aka Brobro is loved by everyone in the neighborhood. He waits at the school bus stop with the children in the morning. Sits with then neighbors in their yard, as they have their evening cocktail. Plays with and occasionally teases, the other cats. His relationship with the dogs in the neighborhood is unequal. One of the dogs is a mineature poodle and when they meet, Brobro goes on is back as an invitation to play. Next door is a young hunting dog mix, who spends her outside time tied up, Brobro will go just close enough to her, so that she will chase him, and run out of rope, at that time Brobro will stop and look back in triumph. When my Mother chats with a neighbor outside, Brobro will sit by her side, taking in the conversation, giving an occasional meow as a contribution. My Mother’s greatest fear, for all these years, has been, that someone will steal him, as he has been known to go into peoples houses for a snack and a snooze. Much to my Mother’s relieve, he always returns home.
He has his inside routines also. In the morning he is my Father's cat and requires stroking and being talked to before my Father picks up his newspaper to read.
In the evening, he will sit on my Mother's lap, while watching television or taking a nap. He goes in and out of the house all day and evening,and occasionally he will stay out longer that my Mother likes, she will then go and open the door and sing "Figaro, Figaro" I think he does this on purpose, just to hear my Mother sing.
At five o’clock every evening he has a cocktail, cocktail shrimp that is. Several weeks ago he lost interest in the shrimp, that and his labored breathing alerted Mother and Dad to something being wrong, come to find out that he has a heart condition. All is well now, as he is on medication and eating his shrimp again.
He has a good life my Brobro.
I could regale you with more stories about Brobro/Figaro, as there are many, however, I will save them for an other time.