Why is the Cat in the Bag?

Do you ever ask yourself life’s big questions? Sometimes I want to know whether time is linear or if we have a purpose we’re destined to fulfill. There are moments of singular clarity in which such existential topics spark a train of thought leading through the great forest of ideas and the eternal plains of wonder to life’s ultimate station, epiphany. At other moments, the journey is less clear and the clouds of doubt shroud my mind. Nevertheless, the question’s importance never waivers. Just such a question currently demands my attention.

I cannot escape the notion for it lives in the dark recesses of my mind. It slithers out of every crack and crevice as it undulates across time and space, resting ominously upon my frontal lobe. It is everything. I must know. The question can not remain unanswered or my spirit will spill from the fractures of unfulfilled desire and be wasted upon the parched earth of an ignorant existence. I have come to understand the importance of this question. I suspect, humbly and wholly, that it represents that elusive concoction we refer to as reality.

By this point, you may have guessed the question to which I am referring, the turning point of transformative understanding. Why, and I must repeat, why was the cat in the bag? Yes, someone may have let the cat out of the bag and their identity may be as difficult to discern as who let the dogs out, but the dogs had a clear purpose to be in their enclosure. Why was the cat in the bag? Is this some twisted nod to Schrodinger and therefore the uncertainty of existence? Am I supposed to be unsure of the cat’s state of being when the bag is opened? Perhaps the cat cannot escape the bag no matter the action. Perhaps the bag cannot contain the cat. Or then again, we may be meant to glean from this simple phrase that life is purrfect. I do not know. But mark my words, I will discover the truth! The cat is in that bag for a reason, and as sure as I know Inigo Montoya let the dogs out, I will discover the truth.