this video making the rounds on Instagram right now, and it is one of the funniest, most touching things I have ever seen: a group of seals “singing” Dean Martin’s part of a bossa nova duet — the very duet he once sang with my mother, Caterina Valente.
I must have watched it ten times. And every single time, I heard her laugh.
God, Mom would have loved this. She would have laughed that big, unmistakable laugh of hers — and then, within about thirty seconds, she would have insisted on getting in touch with whoever cared for those seals. Not for an autograph, not for publicity. She would have wanted to make absolutely sure they were well treated and living a good life. That was Mom. The laughter came first, but the caring was never far behind.
And of course, the video did what these things always do to me now. It opened a door to a memory.
An Italian at a Horse Party in the Utah Desert
Years ago, we were living in Utah. I had a friend there, an amazing artist who painted furniture in the most modern, almost celestial way — I honestly have no other word for it. What I didn’t know was that by day, this celestial furniture painter was a horse rancher.
So when he invited me to one of his parties, I — the European artist who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo — showed up to find myself at a horse showing party in the middle of the Utah desert hills.
I thought my English was pretty good. Think again. I understood maybe half of what the guests were saying. It was horse American — an entirely different language. But everyone was wonderfully kind to me, even as they kept asking whether I was “in the horse scene” and interested in buying. I was, without question, the fish out of water.
Shadows Coming Down the Hills
Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for: time to see the horses.
Except — the corrals were empty. No horses anywhere. I stood there, completely confused, until my friend put two fingers to his lips and whistled.
Far up on the hills, something began to move. It was dusk, so at first they were just shadows flowing down toward us. And when I finally realized those shadows were the horses, I did what any Italian does when overwhelmed by animals: I started talking to them in my Italian gibberish — you know, the way you talk to your pets, whatever the species.
Lo and behold, the horses reacted. All of them. They came straight to me, pressed me against the rails, wouldn’t let me move an inch, nibbling at me, licking me, rubbing their heads and necks against me — while a crowd of seasoned Utah horse ranchers stood there, mouths open, watching the alien get all the attention from their horses.
When I left that night, I asked my friend one thing: could I bring my mom to meet them?
We agreed on the very next day.
“Do My Makeup — We’re Shooting the Christmas Card”
When I told Mom about the horses, she didn’t hesitate for a second.
“Do my makeup,” she said — I was working in makeup and styling at the time — “and my hair. We’ll shoot some photos for the Christmas card.”
You have to understand: Caterina’s Christmas cards were legendary. They were a genuinely coveted thing among everyone who knew her, because she poured all of her creativity into them, every single year. An empty corral in the Utah desert? To her, that was simply the next set.
So there we were the following day. Again, no horses in sight — until my friend whistled, and this time in plain sunlight, the herd came pouring down the hills to see us.
And then it happened again. The instant they heard Mom’s Italian gibberish, those ranch horses turned into house pets. They completely fell for her. They crowded around her, nuzzled her, adored her — and I just started shooting, one picture after another, trying to keep up with the magic happening in front of my lens.
Some of those photos are here in this post. Look at her face. Look at their faces.
She Just Had It
As you can see, Mom had a very special feeling for animals — a connection, a contact, something you can’t teach and can’t fake. Seals, horses, it didn’t matter. Creatures simply knew who she was.
Maybe that’s why the video of those singing seals hit me so hard. Somewhere between the laughter and the tears, I could picture it perfectly: Mom watching them belt out Dean’s part, laughing until she cried, and then turning to me and saying, “Now find out who takes care of them. I want to make sure they’re happy.”
I will never forget those days in Utah.
I will never forget her.
Do you have a memory of Caterina and her love for animals? Share it in the comments — We read every one.