The white cat's tail is broken at its tip and so tends to flop about a bit but the rest of it is unruly enough for the whole, demonstrated this evening while I sat drinking my cup of tea and giving him a stroke, when he gave my empty cake plate, balanced on the arm of the sofa, a hefty whack with the aforementioned appendage; as I moved quickly to catch the crockery he, startled, moved even quicker in a northeast direction across my chest and neck, via the back of the sofa and away, leaving me with a lap full of steaming tea and two puncture wounds to the neck, but with the tea set still intact.
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