I don’t watch Larry King often, but when I do he is always interviewing an aging celebrity with a checkered past. At the end of the interview he inevitably asks something like “Well, Mr. Celebrity, people have criticized you for some of the things you have done in your life. You had eight wives and were famous for your womanizing. You were arrested for drunk driving four times and stole money from your manager. As a teenager you paid someone to break your mom’s kneecaps when she grounded you. Do you have any regrets?” You and I would be ashamed to have done 10% of what he has done. But the aging celebrity always replies, “If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing!”

Being a celebrity means never having to say you’re sorry.

This caused me to think about my own life. Do I have any regrets? The first thing that came to mind was an evening in September 2006. I definitely would change what I did that night. But to understand why I am sorry, I need to relate a joke that my family has had fun with over the years.

Two sisters, Louise and Elizabeth, lived with their elderly mother and their beloved cat, Fluffy. Louise decided to go on a trip, and she called home the first night to make sure everyone was doing well. Elizabeth answered the phone and was crying. “What’s the matter?” asked Louise, “has something happened to Fluffy?”

Elizabeth took a few moments to gain her composure, and then announced “Fluffy died.”

Upon hearing the news, Louise began crying uncontrollably. She had been with Fluffy for 12 years. Finally, she said to her sister, “You shouldn’t break bad news to me so suddenly. You should have said Fluffy is up on the roof and can’t get down! Then when I called tomorrow, you could tell me that she fell getting down and was in the hospital. Then on the third day you could tell me she had died and I would be better prepared for the news. . . So how is mom?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Mom is up on the roof and she can’t get down.”

I’m not sure how funny that joke really is but we always had fun with it.

“Dad, my Algebra grade is up on the roof and it can’t get down!”

“Hey mom, we were playing catch in the house and somehow that living room lamp got up on the roof and it can’t get down!”

“Sorry but your dinner and it is up on the roof and it can’t get down!”

We had a cute Maltese dog named Nikki for about ten years but he died in the summer of 2006. My wife’s brother Bob and his wife Carol came to visit us from out of town a few weeks after Nikki’s death. My wife and I and my son Carl were sitting on the sofa visiting with Bob and Carol. Suddenly Carol said, “Where’s Nikki? I haven’t seen him yet.”

I was about to tell her Nikki had died when I realized that Carol had given me a unique opportunity to deliver a punch line. Time slowed down and my life passed before my eyes. I saw the other times in my life when someone had given me a classic straight line. I had always risen to the occasion. There was the time my wife and I ran into a friend and he said hello to me and asked, “So who is this beautiful lady with you?” I answered without hesitation, “That’s no lady, that’s my wife!” Then I remembered the time we were sightseeing in New York and I was looking at a map and my wife asked ”So how do we get to Carnegie Hall?” and I said “Lot’s of practice!” But those were easy. This was going to be hard. I finished watching my life and I looked at Carl. He was smiling and mouthed the words, “Dad, tell her he’s on the roof and can’t get down!” I turned to Carol, ready to deliver the punch line of my life.

I choked. “Nikki died” was all I said.

Then Mary, Carl and I began laughing.

I had to explain to Bob and Carol that we really weren’t laughing that our dog had died, but that Carol’s question had reminded us of this joke. It was an awkward moment.

So, if I am ever on Larry King, and he asks me if I have any regrets, I will have to tell him I would like to have a do-over for that one evening with Bob and Carol. I should have said Nikki was on the roof. Or at least I shouldn’t have laughed.

David LeSueur lives in Littleton with his wife. He is happy to report that neither of them is up on the roof.