I see Salem in the kitchen pacing back and forth frantically.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Why? What makes you think something’s up? Nothing’s up.”

I eyeball him. “What. Did. You. Do?”

He stands still for a scant second, “I took a drink of that,” he points a shaking paw at our human’s coffee cup.

He goes back to pacing at a jaguar’s speed, back and forth, mumbling, “Oh no, I don’t know what to do, it was bitter anyway and not worth it so she shouldn’t yell, I hope she doesn’t yell, do you think she’ll know it was me?” His paws twitch from time to time as he talks.

I shake my head, “She won’t suspect a thing.”

I walk away rolling my eyes so hard I worry they might not go back into the forward position.