So I'm sitting here at the 'puter this sunny Saturday, listening to
the live broadcast of Rigoletto from the Met. It's Act III when
Cat-Boy saunters into the computer room and launches himself into my
lap, settling in upside down so I can rub his tummy. He always does
that, as though I have nothing better to do.

Ah well. time for a break from what I'm working on anyway. I accede to
his needs and stroke him gently, humming along with the opera. About
that time the Duke suddenly springs into an aria bitching about how
fickle the fair sex is, which he finds especially annoying. Now, this
being one of the most famous arias in all of opera, I can't help but
sing along. Loudly, in fact. What the hell, I'm all alone here. No one
to complain at least.

As I belt out "la donna e mobile," Cat-Boy suddenly lurches upwards
into a sitting position, gazing at my face wide-eyed. "Qual piuma al
vento, muta d'accento, e di pensiero" I continue, as he continues to
stare in amazement. I smile down at him wondering what fascinates him.
He's been with me only a couple months since I adopted him from the
shelter. Maybe he's never heard his papa singing before.

"Sempre un amabile, leggiadro viso" I continue in what I assume is
perfect tune to the Duke. Suddenly Cat-Boy lifts up a paw and places
it on my lips, tentatively, as if to explore where the sound is coming
from. Then it occurs to me he's never heard me say anything in Italian
before, That must be it. He's spooked by the strange language!

Unless ... no, it couldn't be. He couldn't be trying to tell me
something about my singing, could he? Oh my God. Have I adopted an
opera critic?

Next he'll be wanting tickets to the local performances. How will I
explain at the ticket office that I had to bring my cat along?

"I'm sorry sir, humans only in the opera."

"That's OK, he thinks he's human. Besides, he loves opera."

"Well, OK, but you'll have to get him a separate ticket."

"Why? He always sits on my lap when he listens to opera at home."

"The other patrons might complain."

"Don't be silly. They won't complain unless he tries to sing along.
And I'm the only one who does that."

"OK, I'll let you both in on the same ticket, but only if you promise
that *neither* of you will sing along."

While contemplating a repartée for that insult, Cat-Boy leaps out of
my arms and takes off after a pigeon who foolishly took that moment to
land on the steps of the opera house.

I can see this is not going to work out. I'm just going to have to
make sure he never learns there are local opera performances.

And if any of you are thinking of adopting a cat, be sure to ask at
the shelter if the cat is a music critic. Everyone hates a critic. You
don't need one, least of all one who is a cat. Trust me.

--
Bogus e-mail address, but I read this newsgroup regularly, so reply here.