Street cats have divided Borgo in three parts, like Gaul of old. On top of the street, where my house is, there is one male and three females. Only three of the many kittens born to them last summer are still around. The mating season is upon us again, and other male cats are trying their luck on top of Borgo. Every so often they get in a scrape with the dominant male. As I was returning from coffee at Cotić’s late this morning, I saw one of the three females with two male interlopers crouching in the blind alley to the south of my house. They all stared at me without blinking. When I stopped for a moment to watch the ruthless courtship, two emotions popped into my mind one after another. “Bitch,” I almost hissed at the female cat. “Idiot,” I growled at the missing male. By the time I started fumbling for my key, I was laughing at myself. “Busybody,” I whispered under my breath as I reached my door.