I shut the door behind me as I enter the house and head toward the bedroom. Max jumps down from the couch and runs ahead of me. When I get to the bedroom, he is lying on the bed, paws reaching out in my direction.

“Hey, Spud,” I say, scratching the top of his head. He paws at my arm playfully. “Have you been good today?”

“Meow.”

“That’s good. Where’s your sister?”

“Meow.”

“Oh, I see.” I leave the bedroom and head down the hall toward the kitchen to get a drink. His tiny voice chases after me down the hall.

“Meow.” I grab a glass from the cabinet and open the fridge. We’re out of juice again, so I grab the Britta pitcher.

“MEOW.”

“Shut up!” I yell down the hall.

“MEOW.”

“No, you shut up!”

“MEOW.”

“No, you shut up!”

“MEOW.”

“No, you shut up!”

“MEOW.”

“No, you shut-”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!” My wife, who has been sitting quietly on the sofa in the living room has evidently had enough. The cat slowly wanders in from the bedroom.

Tentatively, “Meow?”

“No, you shut up,” I whisper.