By our last visit his situation had markedly deteriorated. He slept in the living room on a beige recliner with an overcoat for a blanket. When I asked what was in the bedroom he said, “the archives,” quickly followed by “don’t go in there.” He enthusiastically extolled the virtues of his cat: “When he senses a deficit of healing energy, he jumps on my lap. The purring is at first very loud, as he clears the area of disruptive vibrations. At a certain point, the audible component drops off, signaling a reversion to more subtle wave patterns.” I commented that his cat seemed to be getting on in years. I wondered if when the time came he would consider a new companion. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. Looking back, I wish I had asked more. About his cat, and his archives. I wish I had shown an interest.