We don't think alike, Cat. For me, the horse is, after man, the most
beautiful thing in the world.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_vexed_) And where do I come in?

TOBY-DOG, (_evasive and courteous_)

Oh, you're a _Cat_. But a horse, and with Her on his back! What a
beautiful picture they make, high up in the blue air! To gaze on it, I
have to throw my head 'way back on my thick neck. The horse lends her
his speed. Now at last, She can race with me when I go off on a mad run.
Sometimes I'm ahead, ears floating back and tongue hanging out like a
little flag--the angular shadow of the horse on the road in front. If I
follow her, a fragrant dust blows back at me. It smells of warm leather,
moist beast, and a little of her own perfume too. The road runs under
me, like a ribbon that someone is pulling. Oh, what joy it is to be so
little and so swift, running along in the shadow of a great galloping
horse! When we halt, I pant like a motor, between the legs of my friend,
who snorts and in the kindliest way puts down his fettered mouth and
sprinkles me ...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I know, I know! The horse "with long mane ashake; hoofs, heavy with
tumult; eyes, glimmering white." ...You are the last of the
Romanticists.

TOBY-DOG

I'm not the last of the Romanticists. I'm a little bull-dog that came