Schrodinger languidly stretches out a paw and begins to compose his latest epic poem:

A Further Ode To Curtains

Oh Curtains! How I do love thee…thou art my constant comfort in these current times of trial and the pain of this ongoing existence…

In the midst of such feverish composition, the weary cat takes a break to reflect on recent events and begins his tail, writing with his sharpest quill…

…In the endless noon of my torturous existence, Hoomama did an evil thing. She brought a Stinkie Barkie into MY house. (Here, Schrodinger lashes his tail in sheer frustration at the folly of Hoomuns before continuing…)

Worse still, she did not even think to consult with Management first – had she pursued this entirely sensible, wise approach, my brother and I could have guided her away from the precipice of such a catastrophic mistake – but no! She simply chose to consult with Other Hoomuns and when THEY approved, Hoomama acted. Of course, I did my best to hide my emotions when this decision became apparent – but she might have noticed…

Such extraordinary folly shall of course be punished and I shall seek my comfort wherever it can be found in the midst of this wholly neglectful and abusive existence in which Hoomama does not even TRY to meet my every reasonable need and desire. The maltreatment to which I am subjected simply cannot be borne! Nor should any reasonable cat expect to even try…

(Here Schrodinger pauses for a meditative bat at one of his tinkleballs, a chew on his favourite feather wand and to change position from one box in his Deluxe Multi-storey Cat Tree to another…He composes himself, wondering whether or not it is yet time for Dreamies, and continues…)

Ah yes! The dreadful trials of the neglectful life to which I am subjected!

Well, at first Stinkie Barkie was confined to the kitchen, behind wooden gates.  These allowed my brother and I to stare balefully at him from the upstairs landing as he looked around in confusion at his new world…and pee’d everywhere.  (I mean it was EVERYWHERE! Shocking behaviour! I couldn’t BELIEVE it!)

Eventually, after at least five furrevers, we came down to the middle of the stairs where we could lock eyes with the little piece of evil golden fur…and would you believe, it DARED to shout at us?! Well. This is not acceptable so we shouted right back. We employed our best Alleycat Language, kindly shared with us by our Late and Dearly Beloved Brother Basil. He spent his first two years on the streets so trust us when he say he knew aaaaalllllll the best words…and he shared them with us. 

These conversations between Stinkie Barkie and ourselves continued until we noticed something quite concerning: Stinkie Barkie was getting bigger. He had started out slightly smaller than we are, but he was already the size of three of us! This was deeply worrying so we came closer and this time employed the next level of Cat Management and applied Claw Sandwiches to Little Black Noses.  That earned us a bellow from both Hoomama and Stinkie Barkie (how very dare she! We were only defending our territory! And he is such a whiner.)

Still, however hard we tried to make it happen, Stinkie Barkie flatly refused to leave our house. To make matters worse, Hoomama started opening the gates sometimes and allowing the little brat into the lounge with her. What a shocking case of bad judgement on her part! 

Then things only got worse as she introduced Stinkie Barkie to Little Hoomun and Oh.My.Word. The noise was not to be borne! Stinkie Barkie and Little Hoo charged around the house, barking at one another, jumping on our sleeping places and off again and throwing toys about. There was FAR too much giggling to ever be acceptable in a sober and sensibly managed cat’s home. These actions were interfering with our rest! We were becoming positive insomniacs!

So, having exhausted all other options, and seeing no real alternative, I began to scope the joint to find the very best, most effective of all curtains with which to comfort myself.

Finally, last night, having examined all remaining and available options (spoilsport Hoomama has removed a fair few of my favourites for unknown reasons…) I found the best one. It was located in Hoomama’s bedroom, immediately next to the sleeping place we allow her to share with us. Better still, when untucked, the curtain drifts down onto the top of the large radiator which warms our room so assists in the distribution of our favourite scent. 

I waited until the middle of The Great Darkness when Stinkie Barkie snored and twitched in his crate downstairs, and Hoomama was curled up in a comfortable looking ball in the middle of our sleeping place. Then I climbed up onto the top of our armchair, right at the hottest point of the radiator….aimed….and found my relief.  

Then, mischief managed, I departed the scene to curl up on top of one of my scratching post beds and waited. Of course it didn’t take long, Hoomama woke with a start and sat straight up in bed sniffing the air. To my great amusement – here was an unforeseen benefit – her sleep addled brain convinced her she was smelling burning. This got better and better!

I watched with one barely opened eye and my whiskers twitched in amusement as she charged around, unplugging every one of her light boxes, fur styling tools, and clicked off every socket she could find as she desperately searched for the problem. Of course all of this noise woke up Stinkie Barkie so he started to yell and demand to go outside, so Hoomama had to charge down into the cold night air to supervise his toilet (as an aside, WHY does he need supervision to relieve himself? Such odd requirements.)

Finally, half an hour later, having established there was no actual fire, and with tiredness overwhelming her, Hoomama convinced herself the pleasing aroma was a figment of her imagination and she returned to our sleeping place to doze. This lasted from approximately 2am until 5am when Stinkie Barkie started rustling about again and demanding further toilet based supervision so Hoomama charged downstairs and outside with him again. I rolled over and covered my nose with my gloriously fluffy tail.

I watched through my fur as Hoomama tiredly climbed the stairs again and tumbled into our sleeping place where she managed another forty minutes or so before the smell convinced her she had missed something. This time, she was on her knees in the middle of our sleeping place, all lights blazing as she sniffed every individual pillow, abandoned shoe on the floor, piece of paper and abandoned paper bag. By this time, she had clearly realised the aroma was not fire, but in fact a product of my love for her. This meant she was muttering some VERY naughty words under her breath about the inconstancy of cats.

Eventually, she had stripped all her bed linen, had mopped the floor, including under our Super Kingsized Sleeping Place. She had sprayed all the upholstered side, headboard and footboard with anti-enzyme spray and had been on her hands and knees in every corner of the room….searching.  Of course, I batted my tinkleball while I watched with great delight, pleased at the success of my venture.

Finally, clearly annoyed at the disruption, my unreliable, unfaithful brother marched over to the offending curtain and pointedly sniffed right in the middle of the spot of my anointing. Hoomama pounced, and would you believe it, she stroked my brother and thanked him for telling her where it was?! He is SUCH a grass. We shall have words later on.

But finally, all soft upholstery removed from the room, all curtains removed, all bed linen and abandoned clothes thrown down the stairs in preparation for laundry, floor and corners thoroughly mopped and remaining furniture sprayed…Hoomama shot me a filthy look and said, “Bloody Cat!”

Well! I ask you! Such unjust treatment and verbal abuse is clearly my lot in life! But that’s what she gets for adopting Stinkie Barkie, of whom I do not now, and never will, approve.

So there.

It was now 6:47am.