As I lay there smoking (unintentionally), waiting for my wife, I was first greeted by the neighbor’s cat. She was known for being able to get into our house at will, though we never were quite sure how.

“You’re definitely not a handyman, are you?â€?

“You’re supposed to…” I actually made it three words before realizing who it was that spoke to me. “What?”

“Well I gather from the smoking toaster and the smoking you that your attempt at repairs have fallen short of their ultimate goal of toast that’s not flavored with charcoal,” the cat replied, calmly licking her paw and wiping her face.

“You’re talking,” I accused the cat. An amused look was my reward.

“Of course I am,” the cat replied. I swear it was smirking.

“Cats can’t talk!” I insisted as I waved some smoke away from my face.

“Of course cats can talk,” she scolded me. “All cats can talk.”

“But I’ve never heard a cat talk before!” My day was taking a very strange turn.

“You’ve just never been in the right frame of mind to listen to a cat before.”