There was nothing particularly singular about Janice and Branwell. They lived in a suburb. They had a cat and a dog. The grandchildren would visit quite often.
Usually they took turns in walking the dog, although Branwell had the task of feeding it. Janice was in charge of feeding the cat.
One sunny afternoon the cat was particularly vocal which usually meant she wanted some milk. Janice poured milk into a saucer and placed it on the kitchen floor next to the oven. The dog barged in, which he usually didn’t do, pushed the cat aside and lapped up the cat’s milk. Janice shooed them both outside.
A few minutes later Branwell appeared in the kitchen.
“I just heard the strangest thing,” he said. “I heard it as clear as a bell. The cat spoke to the dog. She said, ‘You shouldn’t do that. You know it’s my milk’.” The dog responded by saying, “Your English gets better by the day.”
“You’re hearing things,” said Janice. The cat’s been complaining all morning.”
“It was perfectly articulated,” said Branwell, “but, yes, I guess I was hearing things.”
“Exactly right,” said Janice.
The cat and the dog sat outside in the shade. “That was a close call,” they said one to the other – but in French.