<i>How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!</i>

My cat can turn her head 180° on her cervical bones to stare down ghosts, especiallymy father's, who even in death, still hates cats.I wish I had the courage of a cat.Cats are so like my father: prone to weak kidneys. Long ago, my father poureda cement kidney-shaped patio in our backyard.Not a pool for the unrelenting summer heat. A patio.My mother edged that whole shape with yellow dancing jonquils for the spring,brazen orange cosmos on their long necks for summer's end and into fall—the fire colors lasted half a year round.The patio was hard and cracked when the weather changed. Stray cats liked to warmtheir bellies on the poured stone. My father scared them away with a spit and a hiss.