I was stripping off my clothes this evening when I spotted a peeping tom at the bedroom’s sliding glass door. Eyes big, they watched everything that I was doing.

Then I saw that it wasn’t a tom — it was Vee, the cat who likes visiting us. She’s not a tom. She’s a queen!

I went over and let her in. Giving a friendly chirp, she popped in and wound herself around my legs.

Knowing the ritual, I headed for the treat bag. Vee trotted alongside, veering right to rub up against my wife’s leg for a moment.

“Who is this?” my wife teased.

“Peeping tom,” I replied. Picking up the treat bag, I gave it a shake and jogged to the back door.

The peeping tom beat me to there. Back outside, I gave her treats, scratched her ears, and admonished, “Now stop peeping on me, girl.”

Busy eating, Vee gave no answer.