Our cat Henry used to sit up on the table with me when I played Strat-O-Matic Baseball. Not because he wanted to see how the 1927 American League season turned out, but because he wanted to grab the little plastic pegs that served for baserunners. He waited till I had to get up for something. Once I came to realize what he was waiting for, I would tell him, very sternly, “You leave those little plastic men alone!” And he would argue with me–quite emphatically, in fact. He wanted to snatch them up in his mouth and run off with them, and lose them. It’s the cat idea of a good time. He even looked cross when he argued. “Yaaah! Myaaah!” And so forth.