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to brush off Rowdy’s feet and underbelly before we entered the lobby, which was the brightest and most cheerful place I’d seen that day.
    Only one of our lobby regulars was there. In the adjoining dining hall, a man in green work clothes was running a floor-polisher over the linoleum, and the ten-thirty exercise group hadn’t begun yet. At the Gateway, the day always started late. I’d been asked never to arrive before ten-thirty, when the last breakfast trays were cleared and when most people would have been bathed and dressed. When I signed in and pinned on my badge, I realized that my sweater was a depressingly colorless gray. I wished I’d worn red and tied a bright bandanna around Rowdy’s neck. A staff member bustled by and, in passing, confirmed my impression that everything was running behind schedule today.
    “Where are your friends today?” I asked the lone woman in the lobby.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “Where is everyone?”
    “Not dressed yet, I guess,” I answered. “I’m glad you’re here. Rowdy would be disappointed if he didn’t get to visit.”
    Even after we’d spent some time with her, the morning activities in the dining hall still hadn’t begun, so I decided to move up to the third floor and catch our first-floor people later. When we stepped off the elevator, I had to lead Rowdy around a man who was washing the floor. Someone was stacking trays of dirty dishes on a big cart. The TV room was empty except for a woman I’d never met before. Although she smiled pleasantly at Rowdy, when I asked whether she liked dogs, she said no, not big dogs, just little ones. Back in the corridor, Rowdy headed for 319, Nancy’s room. We found the door shut. Rowdy whined softly, and I had to remind him not to paw at it and scratch the paint. A closed door, I’d learned, meant that one or both occupants were being bathed, dressed, or given some kind of medical treatment. I’d been told that it was all right to knock and wait for a reply, but I didn’t want to bother anyone who might be attending to Nancy or her roommate, and I didn’t want to violate anyone’s privacy.
    “We’ll come find Nancy later,” I told Rowdy. “She’ll tell you how beautiful you are, won’t she? And you’ll give her a big kiss.” She’d also moan and call out his name, and she’d have to be prevented from encouraging him to jump on her bed, where, I feared, he might accidentally crush her tiny frame, but neither her wailing nor her frailty would bother Rowdy. “I promise,” I said. “She won’t want to miss you, either. We’ll come back later.”
    Having visited hardly anyone, we took the elevator to the fifth floor. There I was relieved to find Helen and Althea dressed for the day and eager to see Rowdy. Helen Musgrave interrupted her ritual sorting of the contents of her bulletin board to shake hands with Rowdy and then departed to attend some activity or event. Despite the darkness of the day, the morning light that came through the big window bathed Althea’s face and made her look a hundred years old, but she was even more animated than usual, and crowed to Rowdy in a fashion that reminded me of her sister, Ceci. The cause of her excitement, I learned, was the prospect of a visit from her grandnephew, her late brother George’s grandson. Jonathan lived in St. Paul, Minnesota, where he taught mathematics at Macalester College. Jonathan’s father, George’s only child, had died a number of years before. Except for Ceci, Althea said, Jonathan was her only living relative. He had called on Wednesday. The call alone, I saw, had been a treat for Althea. Jonathan was arriving in Boston on Saturday, tomorrow, and would stay with Ceci. Althea was getting her hair done this afternoon, and her nails, too. “Not that it matters,” Althea commented, “but at my age, special occasions are to be treasured and are well worth a celebration.” Just how excited was Althea about Jonathan’s visit? She was so