Have a look at this if you get time. Just written it.
Cats lick.
INT. DAY. PSYCHIATRISTS CONSULTATION ROOM. PSYCHIATRIST IS SITTING AT HER DESK. IT IS HOT AND THE WINDOW IS OPEN. THEY ARE ON THE 4TH FLOOR.
PSYCHIATRIST (PSYCH) Come in.
THE DOOR OPENS AND A VERY ORDINARY MAN WALKS IN LOOKING ANXIOUS.
PSYCH. Please come in and sit down.
THE MAN SIT’S THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DESK. SHE SMILES AT HIM.
MAN. Hello.
PSYCH. How can I help you.
MAN. I’m not sure that you can.
PSYCH. Try me.
MAN. Well, I think I’m a cat.
PSYCH. And how does that make you feel.
MAN. Frightened of dogs.
PSYCH. Have you always been fearful.
MAN. Of what, dogs?
PSYCH. No, of life. Of your father?
MAN. But my father’s not a dog … he’s just a normal bloke. Quite nice really.
MAN BEGINS TO WIPE HIS ARM ACROSS HIS HEAD AND THEN LICK IT.
PSYCH. Why do you need to do that?
MAN. What?
PSYCH. That.
SHE MIMICS HIM.
MAN. Why are you doing that?
PSYCH. What.
MAN. What you just did.
PSYCH. I was trying to demonstrate being a cat.
MAN. Do you like rats and mice.
PSYCH. No.
MAN. Bet that you like cream and being tickled.
PSYCH. Well, I suppose I do but then doesn’t everybody?
MAN. See, no, I know a sociopath dog that hates being stroked. HE THINKS FOR A MOMENT. But he does like cream. Fish?
PSYCH. Yes, I like fish.
MAN. (pulls a gourmet tin of pilchards from his pocket and puts it on the table) Good, eh?
PSYCH.(purrs over them)
MAN. Tut, tut. Bet that when you were a little girl you used to chase pigeons in the streets, didn’t you?
PSYCH. Well … yes I did.
A PIGEON LANDS ON THE WINDOWSILL AND THEY BOTH START TO TWITCH. THE MAN LAUNCHES HIMSELF AT THE BIRD AND FLIES OUT THE WINDOW.
PSYCH. Cat’s you can’t do anything with ‘em.