<div class="floatleft"><div align="center">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/cdc1/04s7432n614occi4g.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Chloe Dawson<br/>  ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾  </span></span></div></div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… we start talking aobut cats again as we pay for our breakfast and leave …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Not changing the subject, but circus dogs, the trained ones, are all rescues. They’re as intelligent if not more so than purebreds. So if I took to a Siamese or a Himalayan or whatever at the shelter, then sure. I choose for the eyes mostly, how does the cat look at me and what do I see in their eyes. Some cats know more than others, so I’ve been told.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>…  we take a little different route back … a bit of window shopping … my phone buzzes …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Hello Mother … Oh no! … Yes, on our way! … Mother! … Maybe 45 minutes.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… take Kimmie’s hand … we set off briskly, glad we’re wearing runners …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Uncle Joel tried to kill himself. They’re at the ER at Tufts. She told me not to bring you but you’re coming anyway. Daddy is keeping Aunt Becky company.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… pile into my car and out … 15 minutes … breathe Chloe! … no speeding Chloe! … park in the nearest space I can find …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Okay, please come in with me. I’ll give you the keys if Mother goes all apeshit and you can come back out. But I need you like Mother needs me!”</span></span><br/><div class="floatright"><div align="center">(http://i68.tinypic.com/2ltaif.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Circe Dawson<br/>  ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾  </span></span></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… inside the ER sitting are, I spot Mother in the farthest corner … holding Kimmie’s hand, we walk through the future patients …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Hello Mother. This is Kimmie. Kimmie, my mother Circe Dawson. Mother, how is he!”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>…  hug mother for a bit and sit her back down … me between her and Kimmie …</em></span></span><br/>