The Cat on the Mat

 

The Cat on the Mat

A libretto

Written by WEK after being inspired by The Rage of Alvin, a tragicomedy about a chipmunk resident in Midland, Michigan, composed by Kathryn Van der Linden Kirchmeir. Since it is a fiction, its 1950s assumptions about gender roles may be seen as fantasies.

Scene One: The Living Room. The Master of the House enters. He sees the Cat leisurely disposed on the couch.

The Master recitative:  What see I here? It is as I fear, the cat has assumed a posture most clear. He acts like the Master, that may not be, the Master of this House has always been Me.
The Master hurls his slipper at the Cat, and misses.

Chorus of Cushions and Old Newspapers polyphonic barbershop quartet: The Cat acts like the Master, that cannot be, the Master of this House has always been He, Has always been He, Has always been He.

The Cat opens one eye and yawns, showing gleaming teeth.

The Cat (who for purely dramatic purposes has been given a human voice) recitative: This chair it is cosy, it warms me most kind. So I will just stay here. Hello? Do you mind? Do you mind? Do you mind?

The Cat stretches out his right front paw. Long curved talons become visible. The Master is enraged by this show of defiance, and throws the other slipper.

The Master recitative: Do you dare defy me? How can this be? A mere cat you are, skin and bone covered in fur, and yet you dare, you dare to defy. But I must contain my rage, for it's bad at my age to raise the ire. 'Tis a perilous fire that will consume me.

Chorus barbershop quartet: He must contain his rage, for at his age he may not raise his ire. 'Tis a perilous fire that will consume, Oh, consume, Oh, consume, Oh, consume him utterly.
The Cat turns towards the audience and grins. He begins daintily to groom himself, as the Master storms out and
                                           
The Curtain falls.

Scene Two: The Front Porch. It is morning. The Master prepares to Face the Elements and Bring Home the Bacon.

The Master ballad: I sally forth the foe to slay this frabjous day. I sally forth the foe to kill and turn to swill. I sally forth the foe to smash and turn to ash. I sally forth, I sally forth, I sally forth.

Chorus of Fern, Hoja, two Hibisci, and a Rubber Plant canon: He sallies forth the foe to slay, and thus begins another day. We wait all morning, noon, and eve for his return. While he is gone we yearn, we yearn.

The Master leaves the House in a flourish of trumpets and swirling coat-tails.

The Mistress recitative: I languish as I water the flowers, the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la. Oh why must the Master depart and leave me each day? Why has he not retired from the fray?

The Cat recitative: Let me leave this abode for a few hours, while I go and smell the flowers.

The Mistress opens the door for the Cat, who leaves, his crooked tail flowing in the wind. She closes the door, and disconsolately pours water on the Chorus of houseplants.

The Mistress and Chorus canon: We wait all morning, noon, and eve for his return. While he is gone we yearn, we yearn. And while he’s gone, we burn, we yearn.

The Curtain falls.

Scene Three: The Living Room. Evening. The Master is discovered sitting in the Chair reading the newspaper.

Chorus of Cushions and Old Newspapers ballad, a capella, in unison: Now is it time to rest, now is the time the best for contemplation. The Master in his Chair turns not a single hair despite the international situation. Repeat twice in close barbershop harmony, softly, while the Master rustles his newspaper in time to the music.

The Master ballad: I read of frightful crimes, and topsy-turvy climes, and other things too horrible to mention. The polls are up again, the Dow is down again, and every sport is riddled with corruption. The arts have turned to porn, the farmers lose their corn, and students get a worser education. I think it's time I had a reason to be glad, and it's surely my domestic situation.
As the Mistress brings him a drink, and the Cat jumps on his lap, the Master repeats:
Methinks it's time I had a reason to be glad, and it's surely my domestic situation.

Chorus madrigal: He reads of frightful crimes, and topsy-turvy climes, and other things too horrible to mention. The polls are up again, the Dow is down again, and every sport is riddled with corruption. The arts have turned to porn, the farmers lose their corn, and students get a worser education. He thinks it's time he had a reason to be glad, and it's surely his domestic situation. It's surely his domestic situation.
The Mistress: It's surely his domestic situation.
The Cat: It's surely my domestic situation. 

All madrigal: We read of frightful crimes, and topsy-turvy climes, and other things too horrible to mention. The polls are up again, the Dow is down again, and every sport is riddled with corruption. The arts have turned to porn, the farmers lose their corn, and students get a worser education. We think it's time we had a reason to be glad, and it's surely our domestic situation. It’s surely time we had a reason to be glad, and it's surely our domestic situation.

As the last joyous line is woven into a polyphonic madrigal canon, the percussion section of the orchestra ad-libs a complex alternative rhythm on the bongos and the celestina, and

The Curtain falls.

[If anyone wishes to set this masterpiece to Music, kindly communicate with the author at wolfmac@sympatico.ca.]