When the cat burglar broke into Bud’s home, the old man was asleep on a La-Z-Boy. He had been reading a newspaper while watching TV, but the lamp was off now while the television still flickered, displaying only muted white noise. 

The cat burglar had pushed a window open in the dining room and crept silently into the house—his black tennis shoes progressing over the hardwood floors without so much as a squeak. The burglar made his way through the dark kitchen and entered the living room before looking toward the stairs. When he saw the old man sprawled out on an easy chair, he began tiptoeing around him. 

Then, when Bud snorted and shifted in his seat, the cat burglar froze. Looking blindly in the direction of the intruder, the old man reached for the lamp chain. He turned the light on and donned his glasses. 

"What're you doing here?" he said. 

The cat burglar peered back the way he came as the old man started up and out of his chair, repeating himself as the burglar moved back and away. 

"I said, 'What're you doing here?'"

"Listen, old man," said the cat burglar. "I want your money and your valuables… Now!"

Bud looked the burglar over, then sighed and said, "Well, okay then."

The cat burglar waited as the old man climbed out of his chair and hobbled past. 

"My wallet's upstairs.”

The burglar followed as Bud flipped a switch at the base of the stairwell. 

Then the older man continued, "I've lived in this house for almost 30 years." He started up the steps only to stop halfway up the steps, turn, and say, "And I've never been robbed. Not once."

Bud stepped into his bedroom and moved toward the dresser. After he’d turned on a lamp at the nightstand, he said, "Come on in."

The cat burglar looked at a picture on the bedroom wall and asked, "Is your wife home?"

"I'm a widower," the old man replied as he was pulling a wad of cash from his wallet. "You married?"

"No," said the burglar.

Bud nodded as he held out several large bills. He then shook his head as if it were silly that he'd forgotten. He went back through his wallet for a few credit cards. The old man looked toward the burglar, saying, "These are the ones with the highest limit. Feel free to max 'em out." After handing the burglar the plastic, Bud patted him on the shoulder as he moved past. "It'll cause me some hassle," he said, "but you must need it if you're in my house at this time of night." The old man looked at the burglar from the hallway. "I mean it. Max those cards out." Putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head, he continued, "Doing what you're doing. I just feel bad." Then, as if it had just struck him, the old man added, "Wait a minute. Wait just one minute." He limped toward his nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out a watch. "This is very valuable. Don't let someone at the pawnshop tell you otherwise."

The cat burglar took it from him. “A hundred bucks?"

"At least," said Bud. Then he looked the cat burglar up and down. "You know, you're looking thin. Why don't you come downstairs?" The old man looked over at his alarm clock. "It's nearly morning, and I make a great pancake."

The cat burglar shook his head. "I should probably go."

"Oh sure, more houses to get to?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then stay," said the old man. "You won't regret it. I promise."

The cat burglar looked at the money, the watch, and the credit cards. After stuffing them in his pockets, he said, "Well, I guess I've got a minute."

"Great," said Bud. Then, at the doorway to his bedroom, he turned again. "If you want to take a look around, be my guest. You might find something I've forgotten."

"That's okay. This should be enough."

"Suit yourself," said Bud. Then the cat burglar followed him downstairs. Bud motioned to the kitchen table. "Have a seat." The burglar pulled up a chair and sat down. The old man turned around and said, "I'm sorry, I've been rude. The name's Bud." He extended his hand to the cat burglar. "I'll understand if you don't want to tell me yours."

The cat burglar shook with a gloved hand. Bud smiled and said, "I know you're probably hot in that ski mask. I'll go turn the heat down." The old man disappeared around the corner before the cat burglar could say anything about it.

When the old man returned, he said, "That should do it." Then he bent over and went into a cabinet. He pulled out his favorite skillet, a mixing bowl, and the whisk. He went into the pantry and refrigerator after that, searching for ingredients. He also poured a glass of orange juice and took it to his guest. "If you drink it all before the pancakes are ready," he said, "there's more where that came from." 

The cat burglar nodded and took a sip. Bud cracked a few eggs, poured milk, and added the mix. Looking over at the cat burglar, he continued, "I know I said I've never been robbed, but that's not entirely true." The cat burglar turned toward Bud, staring through the holes in his black ski mask. Bud whisked and nodded. "I've never been robbed because if someone asks me for something, I give it to them. You might think that's cuckoo." Bud chuckled to himself, dunked a finger in the batter, and licked his fingertip. "I'm not suffering from dementia. Not yet, anyway." Bud laughed again. Then he sighed, "I'll just ask one thing."

"What's that?" asked the cat burglar.

"You say, 'Thank you.'"

"Thank you?"

Bud flipped a hotcake and said, "Just a 'Thank you.' That's all I ask."

The cat burglar shook his head. "Well, thank you, Bud."

"You're welcome." Bud poured the batter into the skillet. "So what do you do?"

"What do you mean?" asked the cat burglar.

"For work?"

"Oh, well, I’m between jobs right now."

"Ah," said Bud. "I was laid off once. It was a difficult time."

The cat burglar nodded and sipped his orange juice. "I was fired."

"Were you?" asked Bud, turning toward him. "Whatever for?"

The cat burglar shrugged. "Maybe I should go."

The old man shook his head, "No, no. I have a couple of pancakes just about ready for you." 

He set a plate in front of the cat burglar a moment later, went into a drawer for some utensils, and found the maple syrup. "I'm going to make a couple more for myself, but you go ahead and eat ‘em while they're hot." The cat burglar didn't wait. He picked up his fork and cut off a hunk of pancake. As he took a large bite, Bud looked over and smiled. He said, "Now, that's a good pancake, isn't it?"

"Very good, Bud."

A few minutes later, the old man sat down across from the burglar. He cut his pancakes and took a small bite, saying, "It's too bad I don't have any bacon."

The cat burglar shook his head. "No, this is perfect." After that, he shoveled another bite of pancake into his mouth and chased it down with orange juice. Bud nodded his head and took a bite himself.

"You got any kids?" asked Bud before he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

The burglar shook his head. "Not yet."

"You want them?"

"I think so," answered the cat burglar.

"Good," said Bud. "I have two."

"Where are they?"

"Other states. They've moved away," Bud explained. "I don't get lonely, though."

The burglar looked up at him. "No?"

"Heck no! There are all kinds of people at the Senior Center. I mean, I can still drive, and my vision's good. I'm pretty lucky that way."

"So, you don't ever feel alone?"

"Well, sure. I'm alone all the time," Bud continued. "I just—well, let me tell you about the time I was working in the factory where I grew up. This was when I was laid off, and before I met Susan—" The cat burglar finished his meal, leaned back in his chair, and listened to the old man tell his story.

Bud looked at the cat burglar's plate. "Do you need more? I've got the batter."

"No, thanks," said the cat burglar. "I'm fine."

Bud wiped his mouth once more, then said, "Let me just get you some more OJ then." The burglar didn't stop him, and Bud poured, saying, "I hope you get some money for that watch. It meant something to me. It was from Susan." The cat burglar reached into his pocket. Looking at the gold-plated wristwatch, he said, "Maybe I shouldn't take it if it was a gift from your wife."

Bud shook his head. "Oh, no. You should take it. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I could find something else of value around here if you can wait a few more minutes."

The cat burglar stood. "That's okay, Bud. This is actually better than I usually do."

"Really?"

"Yeah," said the burglar. "Quite a bit better."

"Talk about a high-risk, low-reward profession," said Bud, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but I should go. It's going to be light soon."

"Oh, sure," said the old man. "I'll walk you to the door."

"That's okay," said the cat burglar. "I'll go back out the window."

"Is that where you came in?" 

The cat burglar nodded, and Bud followed him into the dining room before watching as the younger man crawled outside. Looking back through the window, the cat burglar said, "You may want to lock these after I'm gone."

Bud nodded, then said, "Oh, wait! Wait a minute!" He hurried out of the room. The cat burglar stood outside, glancing intermittently over his shoulder. When Bud returned, he was holding a glass jar. He handed it to the burglar, saying, "There's probably $40 of change in this."

The burglar nodded and said, "Thanks, Bud." Then he turned and hurried away.

Bud closed the window and reached for the latch. Looking at the other windows, he shook his head. He'd never locked them before, and he wasn't going to start now.

The following evening, Bud was asleep on his armchair again. But sometime after midnight, a tap on the shoulder woke him. He blinked and reached for the chain on the floor lamp. The cat burglar was standing a few feet away. 

"Oh, well, hello there," said Bud.

"Hello," said the cat burglar.

"Back for more pancakes?" asked Bud as he threw his blanket off his legs. "They're delicious, aren't they?"

"Not exactly," said the burglar.

"Well, then, how can I help you?" 

Bud adjusted his reading glasses on his face as he spoke.

"I could use some more cash."

Bud stood up and walked through the living room. "You're not gonna believe this, but I didn't make it to the bank today. But you know what? Why don't we go to the ATM? Maybe I can help you that way."

"That sounds great," said the cat burglar.

"Just give me a second," said Bud. Then he disappeared up the stairs. The cat burglar took a closer look around the living room. There was a painting of a duck-hunting scene hanging on the wood paneling above the couch, and a few trinkets on the mantle and end tables. The burglar pocketed a cherubic angel who was praying on its knees.

A moment later, Bud was hurrying back down the steps. He was wearing black socks and tennis shoes. His robe was open. The cat burglar noticed the car keys in Bud's hands and that he was in just boxers and an undershirt. The burglar said, "We have enough time for a pair of pants, Bud."

"Ah!" cried the old man. "Of course! I'll be a second." When Bud returned, he said, "Well, I think we can go."

"You've got your wallet?"

"It was in my pants," said Bud. "I'm glad you told me to get them."

The cat burglar nodded and followed the old man to the carport. Bud unlocked the doors and said, "It's open." He climbed into the car and started the engine. The car didn't start on the first crank, but Bud said, "Don't worry, it's just that she's not driven as much as she used to be."

Bud got the engine going on the second crank. He laughed and put his arm behind the passenger seat. Backing up, he said, "I don't usually listen to the radio, but if you'd like to, go ahead."

"That's okay," said the cat burglar as he reached for his seat belt.

Bud put the car in gear on the quiet neighborhood street. Then, when he turned onto the main road, he looked at the cat burglar and said, "Did you spend all the money I gave you?"