“Look, mommy, cat in a box,” his little boy said. The boy brought his mother over to gaze at the dozing cat, who had changed to a long stretch, paws against the edge of the box.
“Yes, honey, the cat is sleeping. Let’s not disturb him,” she told the boy. Blissfully unware of Schrodinger, the boy left the sixth wall of the box wide open. He stared at the cat for a few seconds, then moved on to his toys.
The cat never used his pet bed, preferring the box despite its lack of padding because he could use it to sharpen his claws. He took a nap in the box every afternoon for a week or so until its base was shredded thin.
When his mother recycled the box, the boy gave the cat a new one. The boy gleefully put the cat into the new box, watching the cat sniff and rub against it until it was his. The cycle continues.