Pigeonholed

Yesterday my flatmate Paul returned from a two-week trip to San Francisco with tales of fabulous cafes, Mexican food, views of the Golden Gate Bridge, a snowboarding journey to Tahoe, and most importantly, the acquaintance of a new cat. Here was the conversation:

Paul: "Gregor and Caitlin have the sweetest kitty. The softest fur in the world. Four years old, from the humane society."

Anna-Lisa: "Large or compact?"

Paul: "Quite compact, as a matter of fact."

A-L: "Long- or short-haired?"

Paul (after petting the imaginary cat in his lap): "Short."

A-L: "Lap cat or armchair sitter?"

Paul: "Lap cat for sure. Head butter as a matter of fact."

A-L: "I know the type."