Schrodinger writes in furious distress…

Dear Diary, Well, I’m sorry to say that hoomama has ONCE AGAIN been wholly unreasonable – though learning of such shocking misdemeanours will clearly not surprise you, my electronic friend. I suspect you are, by now, getting the measure of HER.

It all began last night. It was a cold and frosty night and knowing I was soon to be unreasonably shoved into The Cage to while away the hours of darkness in lonely miserable isolation….

Here hoomum interrupts as she always feels she must:

Hoomum: Cat, lonely isolation? Have we forgotten the night before last when your crate was laced with drugs to help you feel calm and content?

Schrodinger sniffs disdainfully, That is now a distant memory hoomum and no longer relevant to our current discussion.

Hoomun: Riiiiight. I’ll just post the photo shall I?

Schrodinger: You DARE!

Hoomum laughs and wanders off.

Schrodinger: Anyway, as I was saying, it was a cold and frosty night and I was being about my business in the neighbours unkempt garden when I saw it – a flash of movement! Something small, wiggly and no doubt delicious! I heard hoomum calling me and rattling the Dreamies box but of course I ignored her. Here, calling my name in little squeaks was freeeessssshhhh mmmeeeeaaaattttt…..my mouth drooled as my tail lashed in excitement.

I waited.
I watched.
I wiggled my bum a bit.
I waited some more.
And then…..I POUNCED.
GOT HIM!!

I debated ignoring hoomama for a few minutes longer while I inhaled my tasty snack, but no, I decided. It would be lovely to have a warm tasty snack available to me while in captivity.

I jumped over the adjoining fence with my prize dangling from my mouth. Of course, I fully expected hoomama to be delighted with my feline prowess and to congratulate me on my prize – I mean who wouldn’t be impressed?!

I was to be disappointed. Clearly hoomama was not able or willing to celebrate my victory with me, nor did she show any intention of allowing me to bring my prize inside with me. I paddled at the doors, tried to mew sweetly around my mouse, but then I dropped it so I had to go grab it again. I put on my best pleading look but hoomama steadfastly ignored me.

Would you believe the dreadfully appalling things she called me? It was truly shocking. In fact, I stopped listening sometime after I heard, “Disgusting cat….leave the poor things alone!” HOW VERY RUDE!

Well, then hoomama decided to play hardball. She opened the door and rattled the dreamies box but every time I made for the door, with my mouse lovingly clasped in my mouth, she closed the door again and GAVE DREAMIES TO MY BROTHER!!!! I mean, how DARE she?

We played this game for a while and eventually, I realised my brother was grinning in sheer joy and mumbling, “Yup, carry on bro! I’m enjoying my dreamies here!”

I started to swear under my breath, but resentfully, I dropped my mouse on the patio, knowing I could come back for it in the morning, and I darted inside for some dreamies. Hoomama was decent enough to give me some, but of course, she then scooped me up and locked me into torturous captivity, turned off the lights and disappeared upstairs.

I called after here, “I COULD have eaten my mouse down here you know, you wouldn’t have had to watch considering you’re ABANDONING ME!!!!”

Hoomum called back vaguely, “Be quiet cat, it’s bedtime.”

WELL!! I ask you!!!!!

I lurked in The Cage all night and finally, by 4am, I could stand it no longer so I began to sing. No, actually, I began to howl – I mean let’s just be honest here. I WANTED my MOUSE.

It took a whole hour before hoomama finally gave in and came down to let me out. She shoved me outside onto the patio and there, to my abject relief, was my mouse. Unfortunately, it was no longer warm and tender, but after sniffing at it, I decided I could cope with a frozen MousePop, it wouldn’t be all bad and would have a satisfying CRUNCH. (Tender listeners, look away now….)

I prepared myself, washed my paws and prepared to dive in….

BROTHER THAT’S MY MOUSE!!! GIVE IT BACK AT ONCE!!!

The cats charge off after each other shrieking in the early morning darkness….

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…