While it is meant to reduce complication, Occam's Razor does not exclude other possibilities than the obvious ones. It merely allows that, in most cases, the simplest explanation is the most probable. It does not imply that the invading Normans might not, in fact, have been mounted on bloodthirsty, carnivorous zebras.
To illustrate further, when we hear the same sort of rumble in our house, we find that, rather than expecting either horses or zebras, it is more reasonable for the Tall Lady and me to infer the proximity of a clowder of clog-dancing kittens. So it has ever been, and with any sort of luck, shall always be.
The handsome, spotty lad in the photo at the left is named "Don Fabrizio", but because it is too much of a mouthful, it is usually shortened to "Fabio". We are so very proud of him, that on occasion, we call him "Fabulo". Because of his passing resemblance to our Big, Perfect Cat, this has been extended to "Fabulo, Son of Xena" - although never within shot of her sensitive ears.
The long, lean, black smile on the right belongs to "Don Ciccio". Cheech has become our Leonard's best little buddy, and the two of them will tear around the house in blatant disregard of innocent bystanders or their personal space. All four of the Littles are lap-cats, but Cheech has the least time to spare for that. He has too many things to do,
The Littles should be up on the VOKRA gallery pages soon. Today, I'm supposed to be writing biographies to include with their photos. I just hope that I can think of something interesting to say about them.