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  67. 3:46 a.m.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

He coughs. Coughs some more. His impending fatherhood is a grapefruit-sized fur ball in his throat. He stops hacking, then glances up at the ceiling for a long moment. His whiskers twitch from side to side. He is in deep thought. Finally, he moves his glance to me.

Meow.

“Marry her? No, you don’t have to marry her.”

Meow.

“Ingrid and I are getting married because we love each other and we want to start a family.”

Meow.

“Dude, you are a cat. Cats don’t get married.”

Meow.

“I don’t know what will happen to them. They’ll probably give most of them away.”

Meow.

“You want one? Dude, you can’t even take care of yourself. If it wasn’t for me, you would die in thirty minutes.”

Meow.

“So what you’re really asking is do I want another cat? No, I don’t even want one cat.”

Meow.

“A boy. Why a boy?”

Meow.

“So you can name him Justin Timberlake Jr.?”

Meow.

“You and Justin are basically the same? Trust me, you could not be any more different.”

Meow.

“Was that supposed to be a dance? It looks like you just had a seizure.”

Meow.

“Archibald? I am not letting you name your kid Archibald. He’ll get his ass kicked by every cat in town.”

Meow.

“Tell you what. I’ll call Ewen’s maid in the next couple weeks and see if we can go over and visit when she has the litter.”

Meow.

“You are not proposing to her.”

Meow.

“You can get McDonald’s without getting engaged. I will take you to McDonald’s right now if you want.”

Meow.

“I was kidding. Maybe next week.”

Meow.

“Yes, we will go visit. And I guess if you really want one, we can ask them for one.”

Meow.

“I told you, we are not ruining this little cat’s life by naming him Archibald.”

Meow.

“Archie? Yeah, I kind of like that.”

Meow.

“Yes, you can have your stupid jingle ball back.”

I toss it on the floor and he scampers after it.

I exit the bedroom and notice that on the kitchen table is a huge basket. It is three feet tall and covered in cellophane.

I peek through the clear plastic and eye the contents. A bottle of Cristal, some cheeses I can’t pronounce, some meats, pears, strawberries, Swiss chocolates, a tin of caviar, and some crackers.

Easily a thousand dollars’ worth of delicacies.

I pull the card off the basket and read it:

Henry and Ingrid,

Congrats on the engagement. Couldn’t be happier for you. Looking forward to the wedding.

Conner

P.S. What time will the wedding be?

I smile and laugh.