Burt Never Returned the Leaf-Blower He'd Borrowed Last Fall

- Morning, Burt.

Morning, Dave.

- You know your cat, Burt?

My cat's name isn't Burt, Dave.

- 'Course not, Burt.  But he is your cat.

Sure.

- You know how you said yesterday that his tongue was like sandpaper?

Did I say that?

- I believe you did, Burt.

Well, and it's true, now I come to think of it.

- It might well be, but as it happens, your cat was behind you at the time.  I could see him because I was standing facing you, like I am now.  He seemed... interested.

Interested how, Dave?

- Well, to be blunt, Burt, my belt sander is missing.

Changing the topic, Dave?

- Not at all, Burt.  And it seems someone was trying some amateur carpentry in your backyard.  Looked like a rough ladder to the bird feeder.  Or half of one.  Not coincidentally, your cat is behind you again today.  I'm sure you can hear the belt sander warming up.

The cat's belt sander?

- My belt sander, Burt.  Let's be clear.  To return to the topic: your cat.

What about him?

- He looks angry, Burt.  Mighty angry.  You might want to skedaddle.

I don't follow, Dave.

- I'm saying, Burt, that he looks about as angry as a cat with splinters in his tongue.