The Great Clamming Catastrophe
If there was one thing that tested the trio's harmony, it was Ken's passion for clamming. The tides of Alsea Bay offered perfect clamming conditions, and Ken approached the activity with the same precision he applied to coding—researching tide tables, lunar phases, and optimal digging techniques.
What the tide tables couldn't predict was Samba's reaction to Ken returning home caked in bay mud and smelling of saltwater and mollusks.
"It's a perfectly natural process," Ken explained as he stood in the doorway, a bucket of fresh clams in hand, mud up to his knees, while Samba performed what could only be described as a feline exorcism—back arched, fur standing on end, emitting sounds that suggested she was simultaneously impressed and appalled by his appearance.
"She's not questioning your clamming prowess," Toni translated, barely containing her laughter. "She's questioning your life choices and possibly your sanity."
The evening devolved into what had become a post-clamming tradition: Ken showering off the mud, Toni preparing a garlicky clam linguine, and Samba conducting thorough inspections of Ken's boots, which she believed harbored sea creatures specifically brought home to torment her.
As they sat down to dinner, Samba positioned herself at her observation post—the cat tree offering optimal dining supervision angles—Ken reached for Toni's hand across the table.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "sixteen years ago at that Christmas party, if someone had told me this is where we'd end up—"
"You would have calculated the statistical improbability and dismissed it as emotional thinking," Toni finished with a knowing smile.
"And I would have been completely wrong," Ken admitted, his logical mind having long ago accepted that some equations in life defied rational explanation.
Their moment was interrupted by a thud as Samba, attempting to reposition for better food-watching, miscalculated her jump and landed inelegantly on the sideboard, sending a pepper mill rolling dramatically across the floor.