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Old Man: Did you know, cat, the truth is that there are moments that I mistake you for a boot in the hallway.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: No, not any boot. You are not of a size that I should take you for a parade boot. You are too large. Nor would I say that you are of sufficient size that I would spy a garrison boot leaning against the wall and offer it a cat treat.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: In fact it is likely that I would mistake you for a boot of intermediate size, such as a twelve-eyelet Doc Marten.
Cat: (purr)
Old Man: Oh, definitely a matte leather, since the glint of patent leather caps on the toe would reveal instantly which was the boot, which cat.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: You have nailed the very problem. We have no twelve-eyelet Doc Marten boot of any colour, nor any boot to match the size of your body. So what is that I am seeing that I mistake for you?
Cat: (huff)
Old Man: Possible, but not likely. It's most likely that I am hallucinating a boot in the darkened hallway, and that it is actually you that I am seeing. Therefore I ask that you take care in an emergency to avoid the hallway, lest I try to put you on my foot in my panic, using your limbs and tail as laces and your belly as my sole. Your head would be fine fancy toecaps.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: I would hobble outside and all the neighbours would want to know why my boot was so ungainly, why my fine fancy toecaps were biting my toes and my laces were clawing at my ankles.
Cat: ---
Old Man: Don't you walk away from me! They would have a right to know!
(Door opens)
Schmutzie: It's cold out there. What have you been doing?
Old Man: Talking with the cat.
Schmutzie: Uh-huh. I bet.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: No, not any boot. You are not of a size that I should take you for a parade boot. You are too large. Nor would I say that you are of sufficient size that I would spy a garrison boot leaning against the wall and offer it a cat treat.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: In fact it is likely that I would mistake you for a boot of intermediate size, such as a twelve-eyelet Doc Marten.
Cat: (purr)
Old Man: Oh, definitely a matte leather, since the glint of patent leather caps on the toe would reveal instantly which was the boot, which cat.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: You have nailed the very problem. We have no twelve-eyelet Doc Marten boot of any colour, nor any boot to match the size of your body. So what is that I am seeing that I mistake for you?
Cat: (huff)
Old Man: Possible, but not likely. It's most likely that I am hallucinating a boot in the darkened hallway, and that it is actually you that I am seeing. Therefore I ask that you take care in an emergency to avoid the hallway, lest I try to put you on my foot in my panic, using your limbs and tail as laces and your belly as my sole. Your head would be fine fancy toecaps.
Cat: (meow)
Old Man: I would hobble outside and all the neighbours would want to know why my boot was so ungainly, why my fine fancy toecaps were biting my toes and my laces were clawing at my ankles.
Cat: ---
Old Man: Don't you walk away from me! They would have a right to know!
(Door opens)
Schmutzie: It's cold out there. What have you been doing?
Old Man: Talking with the cat.
Schmutzie: Uh-huh. I bet.
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