I went back to my own cabin in the morning, my clothes so tattered I felt like I was doing a campus walk of shame. I tiptoed past Steve’s cabin, though I could hear coughing inside, so someone was there. Then I opened my own door and the place looked like it had been ransacked. As I investigated further, I saw it was mostly Roger’s stuff; only a few of my shirts that had been discarded as, probably, not being worthy enough to steal. (I shopped at discount stores). But there in the middle of my bed was none less than that little black and white cat, surrounded by four little black and white brand-new kittens, and one just as orange as could be. Must have been an interesting night! She was purring. I’d have to ask room service for cat food, or tuna. Or milk. What did cats eat? How about meat
