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The piano is a high piece of furniture that sits in the living room. It is a good piece of furniture on which to escape from a Stampede of Dogs or Herd of Lap Children. We do so daily, hopping first onto the piano bench, then onto the brilliant white teeth of the piano.℅ Proceedings of the Athanasius Kircher Society » Blog Archive » Kircher’s Cat Piano.
The piano is one of the few pieces of furniture in the house that is apparently alive. When we jump onto its teeth, the piano complains with bright, remarkable noise. We do not mind the bright, remarkable noise, but we are often surprised by it, and have to jump quickly to the top of the piano to look back at the teeth in wonder, asking ourselves, “has it always done that?”
Perhaps it has. We’re not quite sure.
We quickly decide it doesn’t matter, of course, and regain our composure almost immediately so that we can sit at the edge of the piano, as nonchalant as the situation will allow, utterly ignoring the Stampede of Dogs or Herd of Lap Children.
Furthermore, we rather enjoy, at times, the complaints of the piano, except for the fact that when we step on the teeth it seems to alert both children and dogs (whichever is not currently stampeding or herding) of our presence, and they likely will come to explore what it is that has disturbed the piano. Still, we are out of reach of the dogs, and we are no longer under the feet of the Lap Children, so it doesn’t matter much.
Sometimes another member of the household will also be alerted, and they may chime in with, “That’s lovely, kitty. Can you play The Minute Waltz?”
This seems to amuse them. So far, their amusement has caused us no harm.
In any case, they know very well how difficult it is to play Chopin without any fingers.
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