Category: Resident Stories

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A Letter From the Duke: On the Matter of the Missing Lid

A cat looking suspiciously at a box with no lid in a dim room

To our valued residents, I write to you with a heavy heart. Last night, between the hours of 2 AM and 5 AM, the lid of the Royal Box vanished. It was a fine lid. It had served us well. It will be missed.

The Evidence

A thorough search of the house has revealed no lid. We found a feather, a hair tie, and a small piece of cheese, but not the lid. We have therefore concluded that the lid was taken, and we have named a suspect.

The Suspect

The suspect is Gary, a ginger cat who was last seen lying on a pile of laundry with a look of absolute innocence. When questioned, Gary declined to speak. When asked whether he was involved, he yawned. We consider this a confession.

Our Response

  • A reward of one dried shrimp for the return of the lid
  • A new lid of equal dignity, ordered from the delivery service
  • An increase in night patrols, performed by the sleepy guard
  • A public ceremony of mourning on Thursday, with snacks

A Reflection

A lid is more than a piece of cardboard. It is a promise of privacy, a roof over the head, and a symbol of all we hold dear. It is also an excellent surface for sitting on, when no one is watching.

A Plea

If you have seen the lid, or know its whereabouts, please step forward. You will not be punished. You will be offered a snack, a lengthy thank you, and possibly a small medal.

Yours in corrugation and in hope, His Grace, Duke Corrugato of Cardboard Royale.

Postscript

UPDATE: As we went to press, a faint rustling was heard under the sofa. The lid, it appears, was there all along, along with two socks, a bottle cap, and a very small spider. Gary has asked that all charges be dropped. They will not be dropped, but they will be reduced to a warning.

This letter is a work of satire.

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Resident Story: The Cat Who Wouldn’t Leave the Box

A grey cat curled tightly inside a small cardboard box with only its ears visible

When Clementine first moved into her Cardboard Royale Classic, she meant to stay for an afternoon. That was eleven days ago. She has not left except for meals, which she takes quickly, and for the litter tray, which she approaches with distaste.

The Family’s Concerns

Her humans first noticed something was wrong when she began to refuse the sofa. “She used to love the sofa,” said one, with visible grief. “Now she looks at it like it’s a stranger.” The family tried placing the box on the sofa. Clementine moved the box.

Our Intervention

Our counsellors, a pair of calm cats named Flute and Corrugato Junior, arrived on a Thursday. They sat outside the box for forty minutes without speaking. Finally, Flute said, “It is a nice box.” Clementine did not respond. But her whiskers moved.

  • First step: acknowledge the box
  • Second step: compliment the box
  • Third step: offer a second, larger box
  • Fourth step: wait
  • Fifth step: discover that she has taken both boxes

The Breakthrough

On day twelve, Clementine stood up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen. She ate. She drank. She looked at the sofa and, after a long pause, jumped onto it. Her family wept.

She returned to the box that night, but this time with the door open. Our counsellors describe this as healthy.

What We Learned

A cat and a box share a relationship that is deep and not easily explained. It cannot be rushed, bribed, or reasoned with. It can only be respected, and perhaps occasionally supplied with snacks.

Clementine is doing well. She has since adopted a second box and a third. Her family has decided to enjoy it.

An Update

Three weeks later, Clementine was spotted in the garden, sniffing a daffodil. Her humans, thrilled, took several photographs. In every one of them, she looks slightly annoyed. We consider this a full recovery.

Cardboard Royale offers a free recovery consultation to any client who has spent more than a week in a box. Please bring a snack.

This story is fictional and exists purely for entertainment.