I maneuvered my 2007 sapphire-blue Honda Accord coupe into the parking lot behind the Bridge Center. In the vehicle to my right was Mary Petit. She was still there when I had finished gathering up my convention card, mechanical pencil, and coffee mug and headed inside for the Saturday afternoon game. I did not figure out what she was up to for some time.

After the game I went for a 6.5 mile walk along the river. Then Sue and I drove to Wethersfield for some pizza with our friend, Tom Corcoran. He had the television tuned to the Michigan-Notre Dame game, but I quickly changed it to Mythbusters. I never watch the Wolverines. They make me much too nervous. I viewed their games with religious fervor in the seventies and eighties when it seemed as if every important game ended with a missed field goal or an opponent making an impossible catch in the end zone. It used to require hours for me to regain my equilibrium.

After supper and a game of 1965-vintage Careers (before Uranium Mining had been replaced by Sports) we drove home, and I immediately went to bed. At 1:30 I woke up and discovered on the ESPN2 crawl the most welcome news that Michigan had prevailed 41-30.

It was shortly thereafter that they appeared. There were three of them: Sue’s ex-father-in-law, his new wife (whom I had never seen before), and Mary Petit. Well, it wasn’t exactly Mary Petit. She only resembled Mary Petit a little, but I could tell that she had the essence of Mary Petit. The trio was (were?) seated side-by-side on chairs, and they were surrounded by about a dozen dogs and cats. They informed me that my lanky black cat Giacomo now belonged to them. They mentioned something about a change in the law of pet ownership in Enfield, but the details were murky.

At that point I gave chase after Giacomo, who went into a building with a bar shaped like a 3. I had to climb over the bar several times to get him, and on one of those occasions I knocked something to the floor and broke it. Giacomo was, at that point, cornered, and most of my attention was on capturing him without getting sliced to shreds by his exceptional claws (he has double-paws). Over my shoulder I assured the bartender that I would give him all the money that I had with me. However, when I looked in my wallet I discovered that someone had stolen the cash therein. In my search I lay a fat white envelope on the bar within which were sixty twenty-dollar bills that I had received for some stocks that I had sold in order to pay for the addition that we are putting on the house.

The bartender demanded the envelope. I got him to agree to take only $50, but since neither of us had change, I handed over three twenties.

At that point I heard the door to the bedroom open. Shortly thereafter the familiar sound of crunching Purina Cat Cow was audible. The next thing that I knew a big black cat was on my chest asking for affection. I was very glad to oblige him, even if it was 4:42 in the morning.