The very idea of a tiger taking a lazy stroll around Paris - napping in the branches of a strong tree in the midday sun, chasing small puppies who'll grow up to have a very complicated relationship with cats in the neighbourhood - fills me with warm joy.
And there was even photographic evidence. Such a rare thing in these cases, but whomever first thought of including a camera in a mobile phone must have a warm place in every newsman's heart.
I've seen that photo. It looks like a cat. Quite like the tabby that was lolling on the front lawn this afternoon and which I had to shoo away before my darling fetched a gun.
I'd quite like to know why that woman and her fuzzy photo was believed when the twenty years of eyewitness reports about the Canterbury Cat are mocked.
This is her picture...
And these are the pictures that local Cantabrians have captured over the years...
Don't you think they look exactly the same? Yes?
Ha. That was a trick. Of course they look nothing alike. The Canterbury Cat is a panther, not a tiger.
So the woman in Paris gets showered with glory, and the poor men of the Canterbury Plains are afraid to come forward with their stories because they'll be pelted with ridicule.
The truth is out there.
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