Do you eat a library cat? No, not yet. A thousand mile table of land in the middle of the United States. Northwest Iowa, downtown Spencer, small town America, small gray building. January, 1988, bitterly cold, Monday, needed my coffee, heard a noise in the drop box, low rumble, blast of freezing air, jammed book, wedging an open, cold, frozen, soft kitten, puddled, head down, legs tucked, looked up at me, lifted the kitten, hands nearly swallowed it, weak, shaking, snuggled, head against my heart, warm matte, water turned grayer, shivering, turned to soft, purring, meowing quietly, dried with the blow dryer, a beautiful, long hair orange tabby. Could barely stand, pads on pause frostbitten. Slowly looked up into each face, rubbed his tiny head against her hand and heard, trusting, melted into each person's arms, loved. No problem falling asleep in public places, preferred laps, but if they weren't available, you would hurl up in a box, cram all four feet inside, and let his sides ooze over the edge, like a muffin. Loved drawers and popping out of them, when you least expected, antics always drew a crowd. People came to the library to see him. He made himself available at the front door of the smiles, the children, the mothers smiling too. Story hour became so calm, physically disabled, do we didn't care, rubbed their legs, jumped in their laps. Crystal's wheeled, first sound I ever heard her ache. Crystal gloed, eyes always blank, now we're on fire. Crystal was alive, happiness exploded, best smile in the world. He was with somebody he loved. Whole town laughed, club members were used to the do-eat treatment, jumping into the center of the table at the beginning of every meeting. He would survey the participants, walk around to each person sniffing, looking, chose one lap, never rushed. He featured in all the cat magazines, documentary about library cats, puts in books, requests for interviews, a star, do-eat delivered, job description, reducing stress, sitting to greet the public, sampling boxes for security and comfort, attending meetings as official ambassador, providing comic relief, climbing in briefcases to retreat, needed papers, generating free publicity, and being cute. Seemingly ordinary, he was extraordinary. Doing came from humble beginnings. He found his place, never gave up. Didn't do one heroic thing. He did something heroic every day, changing lives, one lap at a time. I'm out of my mind.