Schrodinger's Diary

The diary of a cat who may or may not exist

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    The Cheese Script

    Schrodinger: Ok bro, so here’s the script – are we agreed? We’ll do it just like that? Make sure our fans know we DO NOT beg like dogs, as hoomama so RUDELY put it yesterday, but that in fact, we are a MUCH higher class of cat?

    Angus: Bro, does this involve cheese? I like cheese.


    Schrodinger: Of course it involves cheese you nitwit. What else does hoomama give us when we stand up and sweetly put out our murder mittens?


    Angus: Well, sometimes it’s ham.


    Schrodinger: Ok fine, but today it’s cheese. I want cheese. Anyway, are we agreed, this is the script?


    Angus: Well maybe bro, let me just read through the script one more time.


    Schrodinger sighs and has a quick bath while Angus reads his draft.


    THE CHEESE SCRIPT


    Schrodinger enters stage right, waving his glorious tail. Angus enters stage left…and well….Angus enters.


    Both sing The Song of the People to notify hoomama just how very hungry they are (they don’t make any mention of the breakfast they had half an hour previously) and what VERY GOOD CATS they are.


    Hoomama begins to melt and starts to open the cheese packet with a delightful rustle.


    Angus: (looking up from the script) Hang on bro, how do you know hoomama is actually going to melt and open the cheese.


    Schrodinger: Seriously. Look at this face. I mean LOOK at it. How can hoomama ever possibly resist?


    Angus rolls his eyes, quickly washes his whiskers and returns to reading.


    Hoomama cuts off those nice cubes of cheese and dangles them above us.

    First I, Schrodinger, stand up nicely and gracefully receive my piece of cheese, then it’s your turn for one.


    Angus looks up again, “Hang on bro, why do you get first cheese? Why not me? 

    Schrodinger: Because I’m writing the script, now shush and keep reading.


    Angus returns to the script.


    Hoomama repeats this process as we both prettily stand up, collect our cheese and then ask for more. Every single time, hoomama melts and gives us more. Finally, cheese has finished and we have proven we are NOT begging like those morally inferior creatures called Dogs.


    Then, we put it to a vote among our fans as follows:
    Fans, were we, or were we not, standing up very gracefully, asking politely in our very best mews and then gracefully accepting the gifts that are only our due as cats? All vote now.


    Angus finishes reading and looks at his brother with a shrug.


    Angus: Ok bro, works for me.


    Schrodinger: So, mission is go go?


    Angus: Hang on, what’s the mission called?


    Schrodinger: Mission Cheese of course. Now, are you in?


    Angus: Ok bro, let’s do it.


    The cats take their places and prepare to begin the show…

  • The Fast

    Schrodinger: Well, I am delighted to know how many fans I have, based on the number of hoomuns asking after my welfare. Yes, I can assure my supporters that I am still alive, despite being dreadfully mistreated. Hoomama continues to be wholly unreasonable and confines me to The Cage each and every night. It really is an outrage.

    A week or so ago, I decided my best next move would be to stage a hunger strike as a way of expressing my distress. So I dramatically….


    Hoomum: Melodramatrically you mean…..


    Schrodinger: DO you MIND?


    Hoomum: Just keeping in real cat, just keeping it real.


    Schrodinger: Harrumph. Anyway, I decided the best thing to do would be to stage a hunger strike. So I did my usual singing in the morning as I wound around hoomums paws to make sure she knew just how VERY hungry I was.

    She duly served up a cat bowl of really very temping meat victuals (and it is so very yummy as it’s proper meat, none of this puréed stuff some less worthy cats are forced to consume).


    I looked at it.
    I stuck my nose in it.
    I poked it a bit with my paw.
    Then I ignored it.


    In fact, I sat beside said bowl, despite the smell overwhelming me with it’s yumminess, and I shot hoomama truly vicious looks to show her how maltreated I was.


    Of course, hoomama being the soft touch she was, started to become concerned about me, so she attempted to tempt me with treats of real cheese and little pieces of ham. Well, of course I did my best standing on my hind paws, reaching up with my front paws and grabbing the treats, just to show her that these were in fact worthy of my exalted status. I even taught my brother how to do this trick…


    Hoomum: Begging you mean. You taught him how to beg.


    Schrodinger: I was NOT begging! How dare you suggest I would stoop to such a lowly act?! I was showing you what a special kitty I am because only the best kitties stand on their hind paws and catch the treat in their closed mittens.


    Hoomum: Mmmmm I can think of a few dogs who do that….


    Schrodinger: HOOMAMA! How DARE you compare me to such an inferior beast as a DOG????


    Hoomum: Just sayin’


    Schrodinger: Anyway, I took just enough to stave off the hunger pangs and left just enough to make sure hoomama was getting concerned about my welfare. She started wondering if I was sick…until she remembered that I was still eagerly eating treats. By the time she started muttering about The Place That Shall Not Be Named, I knew the game was up. So I looked at her imploringly and this time, I really won – would you believe she retired my boring white cat bowl and actually put my breakfast on one of her OWN teal plates?


    Hoomum: I thought the contrast in colour might help you find it you daft cat.


    Schrodinger: ANYWAY, having finally demonstrated that I require a certain level of service in my victuals, I fell onto my breakfast and devoured the lot. I heard Hoomama humphing in the background but I was too busy daintily nibbling to pay attention.


    Hoomama: Daintily nibbling? More like elbows up, nose down into the trough cat…..


    Cat loftily ignores her….

  • Today’s Mood

    Nope

    I’m not doing today

    Wont

    Shan’t

  • Pretty Thing

    Angus: Well. I’ve noticed that my brother is getting A LOT of attention these days, and I’ve decided that I can’t be having THAT! So last night, I decided to get in on the action. And no, before you ask, not by doing THAT, my brother is quite ill trained to think such things are suitable. Oh no, I’ve decided to be more devious.

    You see, after all of last night’s shenanigans, and a few more bed rotations hoomama didn’t tell you all about, they had both finally settled down in MY bed with hoochild muttering, “This is nice. Very nice mummy.”


    I waited until I could hear the snores as hoomama finally relaxed back into sleep and then……I pounced! I jumped up onto the curved headboard of MY new bed, which is high enough that I can finally investigate the Pretty Thing. The Pretty Thing has caught my eye quite a few times before, because it has flowers and butterflies (and I like those very much!) and it glitters when it catches the sun during the daytime, but I’ve never been able to reach it before.


    Thankfully, the new headboard allowed me to do just that. So I reached up and I batted it. Then I whacked it. Then I sniffed it. Then I batted it some more. It made a very interesting “clangy” noise, so it can’t be real because real butterflies and flowers don’t make clangy noises when I catch them.


    From below me, I heard a groan and a mutter as hoomama heard me. She might have been doing a bit of a weep, but I wouldn’t really know as I wasn’t looking at her.


    Bat.
    Batbat.
    BATBATBATBATBAT!!!


    Hoomama: CAT! Get OFF!


    And would you believe hoomama took a swipe at me? I mean seriously, I’m the GOOD one, the FAVOURITE one. Why is she batting at me?! Needless to say, I jumped down in a huff, bouncing off hoochild’s back as I did so and at that point, hoomama said some words she really shouldn’t be saying.

    I sashayed away to regroup and have a quick bath…and then, the pretty thing was calling again. So I jumped up onto hoomama’s legs, then I walked up her body, sniffed at her face to make SURE she was asleep (she told me she was sleeping so that was ok) and then I jumped back onto the headboard and reached up for the Pretty Thing.


    Bat.
    BatBat
    BATBATBATBATBAT!!!

    I don’t remember anything else except flying. Hoomama, why was I flying??? Cats aren’t supposed to fly.


    Hoomama just grunted and said some more of those words….

  • The Song of the People

    Schrodinger: Dear Diary, Hoomama has been unreasonable again. As soon as the hoochild started to yawn, she shoved ME behind bars – whatever did I do to merit this?

    Hoomun: Do we need to go through this again cat?


    Cat loftily ignores Hoomun and continues to write.


    Schrodinger: So I showed Hoomum what a good cat I am, and with only a minor look of abject suffering, sat down in my litter tray to wait.


    Hoomun: Really cat? Not the soft cushion immediately beside it?


    Schrodinger: I am MAKING a POINT.


    Hoomum: ok cat, you do you.


    Schrodinger: Eventually, hoochild and hoomum went to bed and the house fell into darkness.


    I watched the clock carefully and waited to put my plan into motion…


    2357…
    2358….
    2359…..


    Nearly time! I lashed my tail in excitement….


    0000!


    MMMMEEEEEEOOOOOWWWWWW!!

    I began to sing. The Song of the People is such a vibrant piece, rich in longing and emotion. I sang and I sang and I sang.


    Just occasionally, I paused to listen and check….0031….I hear a rustle and a moan….excellent! I am having an effect! I redouble my efforts until I hear Hoomum speaking to hoochild:


    Hoomun: baby, do you need the toilet?


    A quietly weepy voice comes out of the darkness…


    Hoochild: Yes. Very wet!


    I hear Hoomum sigh so I return to my song as they both crawl out of bed, lights go on and the routine begins: hoochild is divested of pjs and put into the water box, sleepily Hoomun strips his bed but then, just as I am reaching an emotive crescendo…..


    Schrodinger: Hey! Watch where you’re throwing that pile of wet cloth hoomum! It nearly landed on top of my head!


    Hoomun: Oops.


    Schrodinger: Oops? OOOPS?! Don’t you know I’m in an agony of torture down here hoomum?!


    Hoomum remakes hoochild’s bed, washes and dries him before settling him back into bed. Then she stumbles downstairs, throws the laundry into the washer and dares (DARES!) to walk past me without acknowledgment!
    Well! I ask you….!!


    I redouble my song and finally pushed past her endurance, Hoomum opens the door of the cage, removes me none too gently and, (would you believe this?!) shoves me outside into the frosty night! How unbelievably rude!!


    Well of course I immediately jump onto the garage roof and start howling outside the landing window, knowing she’ll give in.

    I’m right, after just a few moments and with a quiet burst of words I know she shouldn’t say….the window opens and I jump through it.


    Schrodinger: Well finally Hoomum! What took you so long?! I’ll be over here on my big bed, I’ll allow you to join me if you really wish too….