Geppetto: The Bensonhurst Steak Bandit

This true and funny story sits on the tail end of last week's cat story (pun intended) ...

When I lived in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, I had another cat named Geppetto — a cat who, in hindsight, probably should’ve come with a warning label. He wasn’t just mischievous. He wasn’t just bold. He was a four‑legged outlaw with a taste for high‑quality beef.

One afternoon, I came home from the supermarket with my kids. I’m pushing the baby carriage, juggling bags, keys, and whatever chaos the day had already thrown at me. As I get closer to my house, I see my landlord and friend, Frank, sitting on the front steps.

I greet him all cheerful: “Hi Frank, how are you!”

He looks at me with the face of a man who has witnessed a crime.

“Oh Michele… you don’t want to know.”

That’s when my stomach dropped. Because in Brooklyn, that sentence means something has gone terribly wrong.

I ask him what happened. He sighs and says he just had an argument with the neighbor down the street — because apparently, my cat Geppetto stole a London Broil steak right off the guy’s BBQ while it was cooking.

I blinked at him.

“Are you sure it was my cat?”

Frank didn’t even hesitate.

“Michele… Geppetto was running down the street toward me, end of steak in his mouth, dragging it under him as he was running all lopsided. And the owner of the steak was chasing him!”

I mean… picture that.

A cat sprinting full‑speed up the block, dragging a London Broil like a lion hauling a wildebeest across the Serengeti.

Behind him, a grown man running after his dinner, yelling like he’s in a hostage negotiation.

And at the finish line?

Frank.

Just sitting there.

Watching the world burn.

Geppetto didn’t slow down. He didn’t look back. He didn’t feel shame.

He ran straight toward our front steps like he was bringing home a trophy from the neighborhood Olympics.

Then in a move worthy of an action movie — he dove under the car parked in front of the house, steak and all. The neighbor is bent over, yelling under the car. Frank is sitting there like, “Why is this my problem?”

Eventually Geppetto crawls out, the neighbor retrieves his now‑violated steak (why he wanted it back is a mystery for the ages), and Geppetto bolts into our backyard like a fugitive returning to his safehouse.

I stood there in total shock, holding my groceries, thinking:

“My cat committed a felony.”

But honestly? It tracks. Between my other cat, Shadow the bar‑crasher, and Geppetto the steak thief, my cats weren’t pets — they were Brooklyn legends.

The Takeaway

Some pets behave. Some pets listen. And then there are the pets who live like they’re starring in their own crime drama. Geppetto reminded me that life is funnier, wilder, and far more memorable when you’re raising creatures who refuse to follow the script. Sometimes the best stories come from the pets who cause the biggest headaches.

Geppetto the Steak Bandit Meteor Scoring Table

Category                            Score                                                     Notes

Steak‑Heist Skills          10/10     Pulled a London Broil extraction in broad daylight.

Speed & Agility               9/10     Outran a grown man while dragging dinner.

Neighborhood Chaos     10/10     Caused a full‑block chase scene.

Frank’s Trauma                8/10      Sat front‑row for the crime of the century.

Geppetto’s Remorse         0/10      Absolutely none. Slept like a king afterward.

Owner’s Shock Level       9/10    "Are you sure it was my cat?” Yes. Yes, it was.

Legend Status                 10/10    Remembered as the Bensonhurst Steak Bandit.