In an earlier blog post* I described my cat’s relationship to the Time Machine that sits on my desk keeping tabs on what goes on in my computer. When both Pard and the Time Machine were younger, it often made faint clickety buzzing noises, which convinced him that it it contained beetles. A reasonable assumption, since our house swarmed with box-elder beetles that year, and they did get into everything. He enjoyed hunting them. But eating them always appeared to be more a duty than a reward. Presently he gave it up. Then he gave up beetle-hunting altogether, as a boring juvenile pastime beneath the dignity of a mature cat.