December 27, 2007
There is no-one like Patrisha. Despite having a vile, vomitous ‘flu, she put on her boots and coat and brought Christmas dinner through the snow to some neighborhood strays: the feral cat colony in what she calls Stixhollow under the railroad bridge and Peter, an aging artist living in a tiny room on a pittance. She reported that the cats were warm and happy together, Peter’s cupboards literally bare. But there’s no-one to care for her in her illness. I wish I still lived two doors away and could be as good to her as she is to everyone.