I’d been trying all week to reach a U.S. senator in order to conduct a critical interview. I was definitely feeling panicky as my deadline crept ever closer, when my little boy waltzed into my home office and announced that the cat was stuck behind the refrigerator.

Afraid she’d be electrocuted, I flattened myself behind the fridge to yank her out. I heard the phone ring, but was so intent on my mission I paid little attention.

When I finally emerged with an angry cat stuck to my shoulder, my son greeted me with a slip of paper. It said, “1 1 0 1.” I squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“The man said to give you the numbers,” my 5-year-old explained.

“What man?”

“Sinna…sinna…sinna something…”

“Senator?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Uh huh. I told him you couldn’t come to the phone ‘cause you were stuck behind the refrigerator.”

Oh, the joys of working at home.

That was more than a decade ago. Some things have changed, some have remained the same: I still have the cat. I still have the kid. I can no longer fit behind the refrigerator.

And, of course, I’m still a freelance writer as well as a former police officer. My subjects: Social and criminal justice issues, true crime, humor, shelter, personal finance and a smattering of other stuff, ranging from history to pets. I’ll tackle almost anything. And you won’t have to talk to a kindergartener to get me on the phone.

(Disclaimer: Teenagers aren’t much better at taking phone messages, but they do know how to write all their numbers.)