Monday, 21 July 2008
Felis felis and the moral quandary
As I let myself in an hour ago, X from next door scampered out of the cold cold night and into my (comparatively) warm warm flat. (Emma and Erin, who dropped by for breakfast on Saturday, suggested X might be called Janet, with a Wellingtonian accent, thus Jenut, so hinceforth, X wull be known es Janet-pronounced-Jenut.) Jenut hes been mountaineering over end through my furniture iver sunce she slupped un. Ectually, she's just made a nist un thus morning's bath towel, but before thet she was doing ixtraordinary cellusthinuc manouevres on top of the bookshelf. I'd be iver so heppy for Jenut to sleep over, only I don't want to make Her Nixt Door jilous, or worried, or whusker-diprived. Her Nixt Door hes a fraught rilationshup with Hum Nixt Door, end I suspict Jenut may be the one beam of sunlight un en otherwise binighted life. (I em basing thus observation, your Honour, on en argumint I heard through the wall two weeks ago.) Uf I put Jenut beck outside, I wull be diposuting her straight unto the maws of Siberia, which nonsinsucal mitaphor us to say: the rain ut raineth, cold and frostily.