Michael used his house key to open the front door.

“I’m home, honey,” he called.

No answer. That wasn’t so unusual though, Michael thought.  Leslie often did that when she was absorbed in something. What would she be absorbed in right now? He wondered.  Dinner time had passed about two hours ago.

There she was, in the den watching some TV program. But wait, she had a drink on the end table. Well, she did have a drink now and then, come to think of it. He guessed she’d needed it. He didn’t see Sandy.

“Hi honey, what’s up?” he said, giving Leslie a quick kiss.

“Oh, finally,” she said. “I wondered what time you’d get here. You just about live at that office.”

“W-o-r-k,” Michael said, “spells p-a-y-d-a-y on a regular basis. Man, am I beat!”

“I’ll get your dinner. It’s in the oven,” Leslie said, starting to rise.

“That’s okay, I’ll get it,” Michael said. “Stay put. I’ll bring it over here.”

“Where’s Sandy?” Michael asked from the kitchen while heating his dinner in the micro.

“Oh, he’s…Look at this!” Leslie said, pointing at the TV. “Can you believe that Paris? Isn’t she one hell of a mess?”

“She thrills me,” Michael said nonchalantly. “When are we gonna get a Rome or a Lisbon to talk about?”

“May they’ll just clone her,” Leslie said, sipping her drink. “Change her name. That’ll do the trick, won’t it?”

Michael had gotten up and gone to the kitchen. Then he checked the hall leading to the bedrooms. After that he opened the back door which led to the backyard patio.

“Come back and finish your dinner!” Leslie said. “My, aren’t you restless tonight.”

Michael returned to his dinner. “I can’t find Sandy anywhere. Haven’t you seen him recently?”

Leslie put her drink down and broke into tears. “It was awful!” she said. “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t help it.”

Michael’s face revealed his horror. “What in blazes are you talking about, Honey? Where’s my cat?”

“He’s dead! I killed him!” she sobbed. “I  had no idea he was under the car.”