Everyday, after I drag my bloated carcass home from my paying gig, I let my cats out in the backyard to air out. I believe this is imperative in reducing the possibility of them eating me if I become suddenly unconscious. This is also the time when Dr. Robot and I begin our early evening cocktails and discuss our day. Dr. Robot says, "Tenure, blah,blah...research grant, blah, blah...not collegial, blah, blah...I'm going to Central America for a month, blah, blah." I say, "Uh huh, well I saw a guy on the internet that has a 200 pound rabbit and this time I think it's real..."
Back to the cats. The cats are "indoor" cats meaning they are not allowed to run about the neighborhood eating rotisserie chickens from the garbage and planning coup d'etat(s). Anyway, occasionally they will try to "breech the parameter" by jumping to the top of the tall, wooden privacy fence and scribble-scrabblin' off to the front yard and sweet, sweet freedom. Being cats they telegraph this by hunching down and looking up to the top of the fence with a quick glance toward the guard tower (us). When this occurs, Robot (my spouse if you're just tuning in),lets out a yell that will cause your skin to peel. I am always surprised and alarmed by loud noises. I would ask him to stop but it is genetic, soooo.... It is at this point that he declares (in a strangely clipped German accent) that the cats are, "guilty of thought crimes," because they have dared to express...longing. Herr Professor then begins to "herd" the cats with a large staff/stick he acquired when alone...somewhere. I don't know where he gets his staffs and I don't want to know. This signals the end of the "airing out" and dinner time for all involved.