I was in the dorm at my alma mater.  Someone -- probably my statistics lab instructor, Joe Kerry -- went to see how I did on my statistics test.  While I waited, I went next door and visited, taking two cats, Tonya and Minnie ,with me.  While I was there, a black fellow -- a friendly guy and apparently a dorm monitor -- came in to conduct room inspection.  He was a guy whose face wasn't familiar to me.  He wore wire rim glasses.  His first name was Joe (I thought), but I couldn't remember his last name.  Among other things, he checked the guys' calendars.  When he left, I was fuming.  I said it was so Mickey Mouse that I was surprised the guys would stand for it, and if they had any guts they would burn the place down.  He agreed.  I mentioned that I had a Playboy calendar in my carrel at the library and that no one had ever said anything to me about it-although I began to wonder then if it was just a matter of time before they did.  I decided to go back to my room, but had a hard time catching Minnie.  "Joe" went in his bathroom and sat down on the toilet.  Minnie started to follow him in.  I didn't want to go in and interrupt his privacy by struggling with two cats, so I reached in from outside and got her with some difficulty by putting my hand under her belly and lifting her.  It occurred to me, as if in anticipation of a question from him, that it was odd that I could pick Tonya up by the back of the neck, but not Minnie, who seemed to have more loose skin.  When I got out in the hall, Betita Johansen was there, anxiously looking for Bertrand Therber, who was late for an appointment.