Gatinhas Gone (Tiger and Shiloh Abroad)

 Constellation: Amerioca

Stars: Brooklyn and Rio de Janeiro

Date: 2003

I think it was my second trip to the City of My Dreams. The Cidade de Meus Sonhos. Dreams I could't imagine my two beloved daughters, my young cats Tiger and Shiloh, not being part of in some way. Even if indirectly. In this case, through photos. Actual printed photos of them. At home. In Brooklyn. That other Sacred City. Brooklyn and Rio. The Two Stars in my Constellation: Amerioca. My "real" home, Brooklyn. And my adopted second home. My "segunda casa." My City of Sacred Sin. Tropical Oz. Samba's Soul. Where Venus's Latin Daughters still reign. Encantadoras Divinas. The kind I've always yearned for. Women with that certain "something." That libidinous sizzle that, at least for me, makes a woman so magical. (Magic in its many forms is a recurring theme in this blog, as you'll likely pick up on if you hang around even a bit. Magic... the kind that leads you to the ends of the earth, and beyond, if you're true to it. The kind that compels you to go everywhere you can, both inside and out, to revel in it in its purest state.)

And in Tropical Oz, the Emerald City was one Help Discoteca. A glittering nocturnal palace where local  nymphs cavorted with stunned gringos like myself, who couldn't believe their insanely good fortune. Ending up in one of the most electric places on earth. Help's dance floor. Where John Lennon's cry for "somebody" (Help is named for the famous Beatle song) is answered. Clear as Help's iconic bell. The dance floor. Where nights of pure carnal ecstasy began.

And the samba girl I went home with that night (home being my rented Copacabana apartment)--apparently the next morning she took my cat pics. She got up before I did, got dressed, brushed her teeth, etc. Then helped herself to the two dozen or so snapshots of my feline family, my kittens, my "gatinhas," and went "vai embora." Tchau querido. 

I never saw her again. Never got the chance to ask her why she took the pics. But seeing as that was the worst thing she did (they were the only thing she snatched, and the sex had been--as was the default for my tropical encounters--gobsmackingly good. Muito, MUITO... Gostosa), it was the least I could do for her. Sharing my little fuzzballs (if on film only) with this not-so-unfeline-herself little samba sorceress.