After our last issue hit the street, a few of you emailed or Facebooked me to ask, “Where’s your column?!” You have no idea how touched I was to know you missed me – or at least noticed my absence. And though the vast majority of you didn’t email or Facebook me, I trust you’re silently longing for an explanation, too.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew “Bring a Parent to School Day” was coming up. There had been a flyer in Amelia’s backpack, or one of those dreadful robo-calls, or maybe both? Whatever the source, I had long ago relegated the information to some obscure part of my mental hard drive, one of those “folders” where you file things you don’t feel right about trashing… but have no real intention of revisiting.

Last Wednesday, our mischievous cat Arthur – not to be confused with our mannerly cat Frodo – came prancing through the cat flap with a baby squirrel in his mouth. I heard it before I saw it; the wee critter was squeaking up a storm. Panicky – my mother’s voice in my head warning, “you don’t know what diseases it has!” – I picked up the cat, critter in mouth, and put them both outside. My daughter was screaming – “Mom! Get the squirrel out of his mouth!” – but Arthur had already trotted off, and there was nothing I could do.