Timothy versus history

“Meow, meow, meow” said the cat, loudly and plaintively. He ran around and around the house wailing at spaces and scratching at objects and flicking his tail back and forth like an excited puppy. “I am not an excited puppy!” Said the cat, “I flick my tail according to the time honoured conventions of feline body language!”

“What is the matter?” Asked the man, “Is it squirrels in the trees? Is it spiders in the litter tray? Is it your theory that fridge magnets cause herpes?”

The cat sat down with all the heaviest irony he could muster on the mat and answered.

“History.”

“What about history?”

“There is,” proposed the cat, “far, far, far to much of it and it all keeps on happening all at once!”

“There’s not a lot I can do about that. I could try not adding to it but it all carries on regardless,” apologised the man but with that the cat stood up and walked over to the man, so his little whiskered face was right up to the man’s nose and then said as cruelly as only a cat can:

“THEN WHAT USE ARE YOU THEN?”

And the man had no answer to that

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