I think I'll go outside for a while...

 It was 10:30 am on a cold but sunny and clear Saturday morning.   The clowns were all fed and milling about, some of them playing, some seeking the warmth of a radiator, some getting ready to nap.

I was alone because Saturday is "market" day.  Vendors, mostly clothing, but also bed sheets and pillows, housewares, handbags, curtains and tablecloths, line the streets and cars are prohibited.  A delivery man was stuck outside the cancello...the beautiful brick portico at the mouth of the historical section where we live.  As a result, my husband was out taking a little hike to retrieve our package.

Since it was such a lovely day, I was looking out the back double door to the balcony and beyond and noticed the windows were getting a little sooty.  I got a paper towel and some window cleanser and did the insides.  Then I went outside on the balcony to clean the other side, which was where most of the grime was anyway.  The doors open in and were the tiniest bit "open" while I wiped away.  In the blink of an eye, Calzini slipped between the crack and my feet!!  

"Zini!!  Zini!!  Get back inside!"

He ran to the far end of the balcony, where there is a large balsam poplar and a lot of bird traffic.  He went under a chair.  Little bastard!!!!  

Naturally, the one who slipped out HAD to be the only freaking clown I cannot pick up.  After all this time he refuses to have anyone even try to pick him up.  He will come to you if he wants affection, he will schmooze between your ankles, he will even take a step or two onto my lap (but never more than that) but he will not, under any circumstances, be picked up.  

I was in a total panic. Thank goodness my husband wasn't home because he would have had a conniption and I would never hear the end of it.  

I went back inside and waited.  Some of the others came along, curious and concerned.  I shooed them away because I didn't want to try and get Zini inside and have yet another one slip out.

Did I mention that our house is ground level in the front, but the back and balcony are about 7 stories up?  Below us is a brick passeggiata (walkway.)  My heart was in my throat, hoping that the stupid cat wasn't stupid enough to take a leap. 

Every now and then I would see him...sticking his head out between the railing...helping himself to a little "salad" from the potted plants we have out there and having a good old time sniffing and looking around.  

I had some sliced turkey in the fridge, so I took out a small piece of that and every time he came near the door I opened it and spoke as calmly as I could and offered up the turkey.  "Yeah, that's nice, but...look!  There's a bird!"  And off he would go again, to the far end of the balcony and my heart would sink once again to my toes. 

As my stomach churned, I anticipated, with dread, my husband's return.  But the market became my salvation because during his stroll, he stopped for a coffee and ran into a couple of acquaintances he had not seen in a while, so several chats delayed his return.

It felt, of course, like an eternity.  After about twenty anxious minutes, however, the little numbskull was ready to come in from the cold.  One window still has some streaks on it and they are going to stay there. 

All's well that ends well, as they say.  Also, as far as my husband is concerned.....what you don't know can't hurt you (or me!)  It's a beautiful morning.