I’m dressing up. And by that, of course I mean putting on pants and a shirt with sleeves and wiping my face clean of a couple days worth of barbecue sauce. I hate wasting perfectly good barbecue sauce too, especially when it acts as both an automatic flavor enhancer for every meal and skin moisturizer (before you call me crazy, have you seen how tender chicken gets after marinading in barbecue sauce overnight?), but Wife is adamant that I make myself presentable for the company we are about to entertain. No, we’re not expecting relatives or some glamorous foreign dignitary, such as the mayor of the municipality of Lichtenstein (in the Tübingen administrative region (Regierungsbezirk) of Baden-Württemberg, Germany), Peter Nußbaum. Our guest is far more significant in political importance and social standing. That’s right: we are expecting our new Cat Sitter. Now, you might think that meeting a Cat Sitter is a pretty straight-forward endeavor: make sure they are not insane and/or casing your house for a future robbery and go about your business. But that kind of logical thinking is dangerous, especially when it comes to Cat, so check your reason at the door and enter the hall of mirrors. In fact, what is about to unfold is a carefully choreographed ritual that dates back thousands of years to the days of the very first Egyptian Cat Sitter (his name was O-Tep and he lived with his mother). It is an interview of sorts-kind of like Cat is applying to private school and we are having the headmaster over for tea and leftover Halloween candy. Let’s just hope Cat doesn’t take one look at this fresh-faced feline caretaker and decide to “break them.” Maybe I should get some popcorn ready.