Arturo and I shared a lovely meal together once at the Trattoria al Gatto Nero on the island of Burano in Venice. He was very quiet and sweet and patiently accepting of the strange Canadian woman sitting across the way who kept trying to get his attention in hopes of a little tail wag response. (Didn’t work. Arturo was pretty chill.)
I’ve been back to Burano a couple of times since then, and I always head for the Gatto Nero when I do. This is partly because it’s one of those rare things in Venice: a non-tourist-trappy restaurant with high-quality food. It’s also partly because you couldn’t ask for a more lovely environment in which to sit with a friend and a drink.
But it’s mainly because of Arturo. I’ve rarely had such a charming dinner companion. Unlikely as it is to happen, I can’t help hoping to repeat the experience.