“Indeed, I don’t. I never will. But I do know what it’s about. Your great causes, your wars, your struggle to save the world … Your end which justifies the means … Prick up your ears, Philippa. Can you hear those voices, that yowling? Those are cats fighting for a great cause. For indivisible mastery over a heap of rubbish. It’s no joking matter—blood is being spilled and clumps of fur are flying. It’s war. But I care incredibly little about either of these wars, the cats’ or yours.”
