Shrödinger's Cathedral (Originally Written On Monday,September 13th,2010)

 One fine day, Shrödinger woke up and realized that he was bored.

 Bored Of EveryThing.

 Most shockingly... Shrödinger was bored to tears of his cat... who he once upon a time had given the name "Whiskers". He rose from his bed, stepped into his slippers, whipped on his moth-holed bath-robe and trudged down the stairs... his cat skipping by his feet into the waiting kitchen.

 Shrödinger had planned all week for this... This Day was going to put an end to the tedious mornings and nights of feline-interventions upon his miserable existence of being a *physics professor (*and not even a good one by scholastic standards)... and he was going to go out, and buy a dog.

 Yes... A DOG.
 ...
 Shrödinger wanted his afternoons laden with pipe smoke and his boney ass in his saggy recliner by the warm flickering hearth, and a fox-hound abundant with old english charm laying by his slippered feet... a Friend Of Equal Importance as any of a chess match to a maestro befitting of a symphony dedicated to the nature of Jupiter's reach towards all things known to Professors Of Science.

 So... in accordance with The Proper Disposeal of Pets To Be UnLoved And Returned To Nature, Shrödinger bought a large cardboard box... from the local grocer's for a pense-sake or two... earlier that week. It now rested open-flapped upon his breakfast table beside a roll of packing tape.

 Shrödinger brewed his coffee.

 He stooped down and picked up his cat, walked over to the box, and dumped the tabby inside.

 The cat looked up at Shrödinger... ever so curious. The cat... the curiosity belonged to the cat. Shrödinger had no need for the 8th nor 9th Wonder Of The World. He was meticulous in his atrocity to the feline persuasion... closeing the box and tapeing cardboard flaps shut, locking in the kitty's inquisitive emerald glare.

 He sat smug with his mug of hot coffee.

 Watching the box, Shrödinger pondered a method for its destruction... and settled for driving it to a flooded lime-stone quarry... To, Of Course... Drown The Cat. Yes... he was going to drown that annoyance... And Then(!)...
...
Shrödinger was going to buy his fox-hound.

 The kitchen was now beginning to fill with day light, Shrödinger sat in his vigil, drinking his coffee. as scratching came forth from the box's interior...
...
Scratch...scratch, scratch...
...
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.... mew...mew...meeeeewww... 
...
Scratch, scratch...
...
...
Meeeeee-eeeeeeeewww...meeewwww...
...
Scratch... scratch...scratch, scratch...meewwww...MEEEEWWwwwwww... 
...
And so on...

 Shrödinger stood up five minutes into the calamity. The cat had to be silenced... or did it really have to be silenced at all?? After all... he WAS enjoying the tormenting of his former house-mate... did he REALLY want to put an end to all that Godly-Magnificence manifesting itself as well-awaited desperation begging aloud from the darkness of the cardboard box?

No.

 Shrödinger smiled his scientist smile. HE was the River-God NOW... not THAT forsaken flea-ridden gift of his mother's virtuosity to his future as a lone studymate to The Milky Way and beyond!
...
...
 He trudged to the corner of his kitchen, to where he had fed the Mummy's Curse kibbles and cream for more than two years. Shrödinger picked up the cat-food dish, walked over to the sink and washed it out with soap and water. He then poured a good helping of his morning coffee into the bowl, filling it... laughing a little at the boxed cacophony... and took it carefully to the table, ripping open the box's taped flaps. The cat looked up at Shrödinger, mewing its annoyance at betrayal to the ears and eyes of hardship. Its food-dish... now filled with black coffee...was placed before its presence upon the bottom of the box.

 It sniffed at the coffee... looking up one last time at Shrödinger, crying as he folded-down the flaps... tapeing them shut for the second time.

 Shrödinger... satisfied with his bitter deed... nodded self-approval. He plunked the tape upon the table and sat back down, watching the box.

 Hours and hours Shrödinger sat. His coffee drinking transitioning with the pace of a solar exodus to his usual afternoon tea... to his evening cognac... with meals in between to even out the liquid assets of a Sunday well kept to his Gods... and his dream of fox-hounds to be.

 The house was now silent... strange was that silence... was the cat dead? Perhaps a trip to the quarry was not needed if it would be of fated efficiency that coffee be the trick to tip the cat out of its skin. But... WAS IT DEAD? IS it dead? Is it sleeping???

 No... thought Shrödinger... not if it were to drink the coffee... it would be at the ready for a chance to escape... certainly!!

 Shrödinger rose quickly from his chair...maybe it be time to see if the cat was in fact DEAD and NOT awaiting for a chance to claw out of the watery depths...

 If the box were to get wet... hmmm... yes... cardboard IS weak upon saturation...
...
...
 Well! There was NO WAY that the cat was going to have a second chance to enter his life again! Even if it might be of courageous intent to surface from Hell's deep pit like a survivor of some sinking U-boat disaster... dragging its soggy cat-tail up that quarry road... back into town... through the bedroom window...
...
...
 It had to be proven to be dead. There was no other way.

 And if it were to be not as those on route to the Eulesian fields in search of mice...
...
 Shrödinger reached into a drawer by the sink. Brandishing a butcher-knife he crept to the table... upon his toes... heels high...

 His knife sliced through the tape, freeing the flaps...
...
 Shrödinger opened the box...
...
...
 The cat was gone.

 Gone??? It was GONE??? Shrödinger was in shock... gasping in surprise! He was by the box the entire time! Where is the cat??? Where did it go???
...
 He saw something white... from the corner of his twitching eye...

Paper... there was paper in the cat dish... at the bottom of the box...
...
???
 Shrödinger dropped the knife and grabbed the cat-food dish, Snatching the sheet of paper... he tossed the plastic bowl aside, sending it scittering across the floor. The paper was folded... neatly.

 Shrödinger slowly unfolded it with trembleing hands... and he stared...

 Written in ink(!) from a cat's claw (!!) was the scratched out message:

"THANKS ASSHOLE!!! I NEEDED THAT!!"
...
...
...
 Shrödinger... The World's Most Astounded Physics Professor stood... with his mouth agape... astounded.

 He ran in his raggy bath-robe to the front door, wrenching it open... knocking down his coat rack. Shrödinger rushed outside into his front lawn. Ignoreing the water sprinkler as it soaked his day-long lab-coat, he called for his cat...

"Whiskers? Whiskers???? WHIIIIIIIISKERS!!" "WHIIIIIIIISKERS"!!!!
...
"Here Boy... here Whiskers,Whiskers,Whiskers....!"
...
...
"WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIISKERS!!! WHISKERS!!"
...
 Shrödinger glanced around at his neighbors arriveing from work, their children with their bicycles or with their balls... an elderly widow walking her french poodle- barking at the physicist amidst his being the spontaneous Spectacle Of Science. All frozen in astonishment.
...
 All eyes upon Shrödinger... 

 He spun around and rushed back into his house, slamming the door behind him... The old hag's poodle still yipping across the street at his former spot in the wet grass. Shrödinger sloshed in his slippers, nearly crashing his ass at the kitchen entrance, resting momentarily upon the edge of the table...

The table...
...
 The table that had the box upon it. Now open... with no cat.

 Shrödinger leaped up in sudden revelation... Yes!!! The BACK YARD...
...
 He didn't search THERE as of late...
...
 Per chance... the cat be there?? In the flower patch? Playing in the rowans???

EUREKA!!! 
...
 The Cat would certainly be THERE... in the rowan bush!! Awaiting for a finch or two to run out of fly-time... it was definitely possible... for it was known to Shrödinger that cats... like "Whiskers"... often stalked after BIRDS... and...mice...
...
 But IT WAS ALSO PROBABLE that there were no mice in the back yard...
...
...
...
 What was he THINKING?? MICE????PROBABILITY???? Where was the CAT???

 Shrödinger kicked off his water-logged house slippers, unbolted the back door and stumbled into his backyard...
...
...
 "Whiskers?"
...
...
 "Mew..."
...
 Shrödinger heard the cat's meow... excitedly, he called towards the sound...
...
 "Whiskers????"
...
...
 "Meew?"
...
...
 He orientated himself to its general origination... the bed of tulips that had been growing since spring...

 Shrödinger peered at it with his blood-shot eyes, once again calling for his cat...
...
 "Whiskers?? Whiskers? Where ARE you, Old Boy?"
...
 "Mew?"
...
 "Mew?"
...
...
 Bewildered, Shrödinger looked at a tulip in the patch... he gazed right into it and tried one more time...
...
"Whiskers?"
...
...
...
 The tulip stared back into Shrödinger... The Professor Of Physics... deeply... and replied...

 "Mew?"