Q and A

1988: "I got a cat today," she told me. "Where did it come from?" I asked. "Lloyd got it for me, from the shelter, and her name is Chelsea." I'd gotten Nike a few months before, and he was a Maine Coon Cat. I asked her what kind of cat was Chelsea, and she laughed, "Oh, no special breed, not Siamese or Himalayan or anything---just a gray shorthair, plain old American cat."

2011: "And do you have any pets?" asked the intake counselor, just arrived from Hospice. "Well, I had a cat," she answered, a little slowly, maybe wondering why the question was being asked by a stranger. "And what was your cat's name? " "Chelsea," she said, and the questioner made a notation on her notepad. And then, "What kind of cat was Chelsea?" The pause was a little longer this time: how to describe a beloved cat who had been her companion for 22 years. The answer to that question could have gone in many directions------loyal, comforting, loving, unique-----but she took the easy path, and answered, "American." "Oh," the woman responded, and with a knowing look, made another notation.

I felt like explaining, but I didn't. It didn't matter any more.