'll go right along. It's getting late. See you
Election Day."

"O.K., bye. Say--thanks for the ferry ride!"

15

[Illustration: Cat eating turkey neck from bowl on floor.]

DOLLARS AND CATS

Wednesday night before Thanksgiving I go down to the delicatessen to buy
some coke, so I can really enjoy myself watching TV. Tom is just finishing
work at the flower shop, and I ask him if he wants to come along home.

"Nah. Thanks. I got to be at work early tomorrow." He doesn't sound too
cheery.

"How's the job going?"

"O.K., I guess." We walk along a little ways. "The job's not bad, but I
don't want to be a florist all my life, and I can't see this job will
train me for anything else."

That seems pretty true. It must be tough not getting regular holidays off,
too. "You have to work all day tomorrow?" I ask.

"I open the store up at seven and start working on orders we've already
got. I'll get through around three or four."

"Hey, you want to come for dinner? We're not eating till evening."

Tom grins. "You cooking the dinner? Maybe you better ask your mother."

"It'll be all right with Mom. Look, I'll ask her and come let you know in
the store tomorrow, O.K.?"

"Hmm. Well, sure. Thanks. I've got a date with Hilda later in the evening,
but she's got to eat with her folks first."

"O.K. See you tomorrow."

"Right."

Mom says it's all right about Tom coming, so I go down and tell him in the
morning. Turns out Mom has asked Kate to have dinner with us, too, which
is quite a step. For Kate, I mean. I think she would have turned the
invitation down, except no one can bear to hurt Mom's feelings. Kate's
been in our house before, of course, but then she just came in to chat or
have tea or something. It wasn't like an invitation.

She comes, and she looks like someone from another world. I've never seen
her in anything but her old skirts and sneakers, so the "good clothes"
she's wearing now must have been hanging in a closet twenty years. The
dress and shoes are way out of style, and she's carrying a real old black
patent-leather pocketbook. Usually she just lugs her old cloth shopping
bag, mostly full of cat goodies. Come to think of it, that's it: Kate
lives in a world that is just her own and the cats'. I never saw her
trying to fit into the ordinary world be