“Honey,” my wife called from upstairs. “Have you seen the cat?”

I looked up from my novel. Never a moments rest. “No, I haven’t seen you cat.” Which was a good thing. I hated that fuzzy little so-and-so.

“Could you look for her, please?”

Oh, brother. “Why can’t you look for the little…”

“I’m in the middle of making dinner!” she yelled. “If you don’t want your favourite, I’m sure you can run out and get McD’s!”

“Hey!” I said, chuckling. “That’s blackmail!”

“I prefer the term ‘incentive’, but ‘blackmail’ works.” She laughed. “Please, honey. I haven’t seen her all day. I’m worried.”

Hadn’t seen her all day? Oh, no. I got that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I dropped my book, jumped up, and ran down the hall.

I burst into the den. Sure enough, there she was.

“Honey!” I yelled. “That’s it! She’s off to the SPCA !”

“Why? What’s my little angel done this time?!”

I yanked the power cord on our DSL modem. “Your ‘little angel’ was trying to hack the Pentagon. Again!“

God, I hate cats!