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‘What about my dead cat?’ Kevin woud ask. Several years ago, Kevin had been out walking his cat in the early evening. Kevin, the fool, had not put the cat on a leash, and the cat had dashed out into the street and right into the front wheel of a passing car. When he picked up the remains of the cat it was still alive, breathing in bloody foam and staring at him in horror. Kevin liked to say, ‘On judgment day when I’m brought up before the great judge I’m going to say, “Hold on a second,” and the I’m going to whip out my dead cat from inside my coat. “How do you explain this?” I’m going to ask.’ By then, Kevin used to say, the cat would be as stiff as a frying pan; he would hold out the cat by its handle, its tail, and wait for a satisfactory answer.

Fat said, ‘No answer would satisfy you.’[1]


[1] Philip K. Dick, VALIS (1981; 2001, London), 28.