I have a cat. She lies on my bed next to my computer while I rub her belly, talking to me in a quiet voice that reminds me of my mother. My mother is dead. My kids talk to me, but they don't rub my belly. So I have a project. I want to tell a story that my cat will understand. It will start, "My cat, Fred, is dead. What will be my new password?" I don't know if the idea has any promise because cats don't understand much about death and aren't big readers. Anyway, yes, I do have a cat. I'm actually afraid of her. She likes to sleep on my face. Ha! Way too serious! I'd better run for president.