Franz and Fritzie Cat lived in a small house near a shallow
lake under the lip of the volcano. Every day they would waken
early and step outside to smell the warm, sweet air. 

One morning in particular, it doesn't really matter which one,
Fritzie left the lake and the volcano and the warm, sweet air
and walked to town. Her purpose was clear, her bearing direct,
and her brow furrowed. "My," she growled, "this is a long way
to walk to barter for computer parts. If only Franz hadn't
fried the motherboard when he cooked dinner last night." 

When she got to town, she discovered a new travail. Ye Olde
Softwaire Faire had come to town. Hackers were blocking the
sidewalks, vendors were clogging the streets. But worst of all,
the computer fix-it shop was closed. "Oh no," she mewed, "now
I'll have to spend the night talking to Franz. He hasn't been
separated from his computer in years. What will we talk about?
Will I still understand him? Will he recognize me?"

And back she walked to the volcano and the lake and the small
house, her shoulders slumped, her step slowed. A hacker's
wife's life is not an easy one.