I had to take the cat to the vet. We got there, I checked in at the desk and then took a seat in the waiting room. After like two quick minutes a vet tech came out to get us into an exam room. As we were walking down the hallway she told me that they don’t like to leave the cats out in the waiting room for too long because, “it gets the dogs excited,” which sounded pretty entertaining to me but she seemed serious about it so I didn’t comment further.
She got us in a room, told us the doctor would be with us in a little bit and left, so I was just hanging out in the exam room with my cat. They had pictures on the walls, some were hand drawn portraits of pets by kids with “thank you” notes, others were just pictures with names written under them. I don’t know if it was a “hall of fame” thing or an “in loving memory of” thing. Maybe a bit of both. I stopped on one picture. It looked older than all the rest, it had that orange tint to it that wasn’t the result of a filter but of age.
It was a man and woman, both probably in their late seventies, maybe older. They were sitting outside in lawn chairs, holding little white dogs, smiling at the camera. Looks like right around sunset – getting dark, but not too dark for pictures without a flash. They both have coats on – hers a denim one over a red sweater with a white turtleneck, his a green flight jacket style zipped all the way up, and he’s wearing one of those WWII veterans baseball hats. Both had gray hair.
I started to wonder about them. If I had to guess I would say he had one of those old-school unisex names like Claire or Merle, and her name doesn’t matter because everyone called her “Nan.” They looked happy, the people and the dogs, this was obviously a joyful occasion or fun gathering they were at when the picture was snapped. I didn’t know how long the picture had been there, but it seemed like it was old enough that both them and the dogs had probably passed away. I didn’t think there’s any chance I’d ever met them, and probably never would.
Then I started thinking about how odd it was that I was thinking about them at all, and all the circumstances that had to occur for it to happen. I’m guessing they were married, so they had to meet each other, date, fall in love, get married. He had to survive the war. They were well past those years in the picture so there was a lifetime that had to occur leading up to them sitting in those lawn chairs, owning those dogs. Actually, if they never owned those dogs I doubt they would have their picture on the wall, because they would have had no need for a vet.
And that’s just on their end of things. Think about all the things that had to line up just right on my side to put me in front of that picture. I had to get a cat nine years ago, she had to get diabetes, I had to choose this vet, the vet tech had to take us to this particular exam room where someone had put their picture up.
I kept thinking of more questions. Who took the picture? Maybe one of their kids? How many kids did they have? What was the significance of the event the picture was taken at, if there was any? Maybe it was someone’s birthday, or anniversary, or maybe it was nothing special and they were just sitting out at the family lake house, or in the backyard at Merle and Nan’s some cool evening, with the grand kids running around playing flashlight tag or something.
These people had entire lives that I’ll never know about. Triumphs and losses, challenges and victories. Maybe Merle was a war hero. Maybe Nan had been an champion swimmer. All of their stories and experiences will remain forever unknown. To me, they were in my story as background. A part of a collage of pet pictures on a wall. Incidental.
I wondered how many people had seen them. At least hundreds, maybe thousands of people must have seen that picture of them, that little slice of their life, just out there on display. They had been in the background of so many people’s lives, when they were in here getting good or bad news about their pets and no one who saw the picture knew who they were. That’s pretty weird.
How many times have I been in the background? Like – what if someone took a picture of the Picasso at Daley Plaza as I was walking through, or the Bean in Millennium park, and now I’m just “they guy in the tan jacket” to them. Next time you look at your vacation pictures, look at those background people and think about that. It’s a little unnerving. People who’s lives are just as complex and nuanced and meaningful as yours, with their own stories of trials and achievements and joy and sadness, all reduced to just background in your picture, and you’ll never know who they were. And somewhere you’re in some picture you don’t even know about, and the person who took it knows nothing about you.
I was starting to get pretty deep into this train of thought, but then the doctor came in and interrupted it, fortunately, and I had to get back to the present situation with the cat. Everything went fine, kitty was doing good. When we were done, I thanked the doctor, and she asked if I had any questions. I said, “I like the artwork in here. These are patients?”
“Oh yeah, people bring things in sometimes,” she replied offhandedly as she was finishing up the paperwork.
“Really? So you know them? Do you know who they are?” I nodded towards the picture. Maybe Merle and Nan would have their story told after all.
“Oh, no, not personally. These were here when I got here. Do you have any other questions about your cat?”
“Nope, think I’m good. Thanks.”
– PJ