The fact that nobody called the next morning was somewhat reassuring. I spent Sunday close to home, jumping every time the phone rang. That night, I spoke to Mother again, who told me Dad had improved tremendously, though he was still weak. On Monday, he would be out of ICU. Monday morning I noticed our Abyssinian was running to and from his litterbox every five minutes and clearly needed to go to the vet. I decided to stay home that day, so I left a message at DS and notified my temp agency of the situation. Then I telephoned the hospital and got through to Dad, who initially seemed like his old self, but quickly became very tired. Hearing his voice was reassuring.

After getting off the phone I crammed the cat into his carrying case. The vet is well within walking distance, and has been treating every cat I’ve owned there since I moved to San Francisco in 1988. The cat howed most of the way down the hill and hissed, growled and yowled in the waiting room. The vet, after an examination, said I should leave him there for tests.

Late in the afternoon I walked back down the hill to retrieve him. they ahd been unable to get a clean sample because he pissed all over the examining table, but at least he was pissing. He screamed abuse at me almost all the way back up the hill, and even when I opened his cage and let him out into the apartment he was plainly furious, and hissed, grunted and avoided me for half an hour afterwards.

The news from Mom that night was better. Dad had improved, though he was weak.

I went to work the next day, worrying about whether anyone would be able to get in touch with me. As soon as I got home that evening, I called Mom.

“Well hello, Auntie!” she said when she heard my voice.

That was how I learned that my brother and his wife had had their baby. The most beautiful baby ever born, apparently.

The other good news was that Dad had been moved from ICU and I could call him the next morning. Mom said he was feeling good enough to grouse, and the birth of his first grand-child had definitely helped.

At work the next day I discovered that would be my last day there. They had someone they were getting ready to hire. I wasn’t sorry. I certainly didn’t dislike Giacamo, but there was never enough for me to do, and Giacamo always seemed to be troubled by some un-named impending disaster. Since he was going to leave before I did, I agteed to toss my key through the mail slot when I left. I did so feeling the usual sense of a little death. One more place that was familiar that I’d never see again…

Slowly the week sloped back up to normalcy. Dad felt better. I felt better. Another visit to the vet showed the cat felt better, and our Abby was eating and pissing vigorously.

That Thursday, when I telephoned Giacamo to tell him I’d be on on Tuesday to get my timecard signed, he said he had not seen the key when he came in. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he hastened to assure me, “but could you have dropped it into your purse?”

“Absolutely not!” I said. “Maybe you kicked it under something.” He said he would take another look. It seemed a fitting end to the week.