"Whatever is the matter, Mortimer?"
"Let me get at the man who hit me in the eye with a cat."
"A cat?" Lady Prenderby's voice sounded perplexed. "Are you sure?"
"Sure? What do you mean sure? Of course I'm sure. I was just dropping off to sleep in my hammock, when suddenly a great beastly cat came whizzing through the air and caught me properly in the eyeball. It's a nice thing. A man can't sleep in hammocks in his own garden without people pelting him with cats. I insist on the blood of the man who threw that cat."
(from Young Men in Spats, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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