The death of Martha's favorite cat Typo prompts her to reminisce about him, and about one of her favorite ailurophilic words, chatoyant. My cat Typo was a gray tabby. Greenish-gold eyes, always getting into trouble. In fact, I'm sure that during his 17 years, he used up far more than 9 lives. As a kitten, he once jumped head first into a bathtub filled with water. (All I'm going to say about that is 'ouch.') Staying indoors left him indignant. So I tried to train him to walk on a leash. That
