I first met Heidegger’s cat on my way home from a nightclub called Schrodinger’s. We were both pretty wasted and moved warily towards my front door.
Heidegger didn’t mind the independent streak in his feline friend, which was a good job because his cat was very much a free spirit. I looked in the fridge and found milk and leftovers. I got the leftovers, cracked an egg onto them, mashed it up and fried it. Putting it under the grill with a cheese topping made a great tortilla.
The cat, who’s name I forget, lapped up the milk and went to look for a warm spot to curl up and snooze.
I switched on the tv, ate my tortilla and fell asleep watching a documentary on quantum physics
odespinner 