Neroni, the bello gatto, lives in a small hill-top citta and can be seen just turning the corner, his black tail held high. He commands the narrow alley ways around his casa and up the hill toward the church. Mr. Gray Gatto sits in the doorway and suns his old, grigio fur and warms his old bones as Neroni runs by, chasing a brown topo, or mouse, down the cobbled lane.
Many days, though, Neroni, too, feels the cold and decides that sitting in his finestra, a fine window, tall and elegant and shaded with a lovely Italian linen and lace trimmed tab curtain, is the better part of wisdom. For wisdom for both gatti and umani should come with age; whether to be off chasing the prize, or observing the movements of the day before moving, becomes no decision, but an instinct. Look out the window before moving out into the course of the moment.
So, from his window, Neroni can observe life as it drifts by, the other animals of lower case, and the other, higher case animals, the humans, umani, that come to explore the bella country of Italy and all the gifts that she has to offer. Who is that walking by just now?