'Can you spare a quid? OK then 50p, surely you can spare a measly fifty pence. I promise not to waste it on drink.'
'Uh sorry, Mog, were you speaking to me.'
'Yeah of course I was speaking to you, if I'd have been speaking to Tabby Tom over there I wouldn't have bothered putting on my best English accent would I? Be bloody pointless wouldn't it? He's not as bright as me you know. He doesn't do accents. Just makes weird yowling noises and purrs a bit when the sun's on his back.'
'Oh my God, you can speak. This is like, awesome! Wait 'til I tell ...'
'Woah, not so fast Mrs. Tell who what eh? Maybe you should take a minute to think about what you're suggesting here? Probably not wise to publicise this minor 'Doolittle' moment you're having. It might stop just as suddenly as it started and there would you be uh? Up a skanky alley, talking to a ginger moggy in broad daylight and you with the smell of Whiskey on your breath when it's not even two in the afternoon. Shame on you Mrs! Now about that fifty pence'
Oh yes, sure, I think I can spare a pound. Two pounds even, you can get a treat for your friend Tom as well.
Nah f*ck him! Ignorant sod can go learn a language, find his own pitch and extort his own funding.
That's a very selfish attitude; I would have a thought an intelligent creature like you would be capable of displaying a little more in the way of benevolence.
Ha, yeah right! - Mew-mew, miaow.