Can a cat really ruin your life? I mean, it's just a cat, right?

P.G. Woodhouse, today of the Classic Tales Podcast.

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Links can be found in the show notes. And now, the man who disliked cats by

P.G. Woodhouse.

It was Harold who first made us acquainted when I was dining one night at the

Café Britonique in Soho. It is a peculiarity of the Café Britannique that you will always find flies there, even in winter.

Snow was falling that night as I turned in at the door, but glancing about me, I noticed several of the old faces.

My old acquaintance, Percy the Blue Bottle, looking wonderfully fit despite his years, was doing deep

breathing exercises on a mutton cutlet, and was too busy to do more than pause for a moment to nod at me.

But his cousin, Harold, always active, cited me and bustled up to do the honors.

He had finished his game of touch last with my right ear

and was circling slowly in the air while he thought out other ways of entertaining me

when there was a rush of air, a swish of napkin, and no more Harold.

...