Here are the two fuzzballs snoozing right next to each other on our coffee table—which, by the way, is practically the only thing still in our house that I brought into our marriage. I don’t really know why Marian has never gotten the urge to replace it. In any case, that doesn’t matter. This little lovefest ended the way it always does: eventually Hilbert woke up, a neuron fired in his brain, and he started gnawing on Hopper. Not really biting, mind you, not really really. But one thing always leads to another, and before long the romance was over. Hopper decided the game wasn’t worth the candle and decamped to someplace else. Then Hilbert did too. After all, if Hopper doesn’t want the coffee table, why should he?