“You know, when I suggested that we go to a big box store, this is not what I meant.” Mary grumbled.

They stood on a spacious show floor, similar to those used for displaying mattresses or trendy, modular furniture. This room however was filled wall to wall with boxes. All shapes and sizes of boxes. Big bins suited for storage and cozy little crates for files and sordid memorabilia.

Jack sat in front of Mary, firmly wedged into the mouth of a large apple crate lined with plush fabric. A contented grin covered his grey-white feline face, his cat-like ears perked mirroring his excitement. His tail curled lazily around the side of the box.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be sitting in that?” Mary said skeptically. She didn’t think that any of these containers could handle the weight of people sitting in them all day, even Jack’s wiry frame.

“Of course I’m sure!” Jack replied with confidence. “Look!” He pointed to a small sign next to the boxes. Mary leaned closer to read the small print. It read: Sitting Boxes: Comfortable All Year.

“Is this one of those Cat things?”

“Well, sure. Though I think if more humans gave it a shot they’d like it just as much.”

“I don’t think so. After all, most humans don’t have jelly for bones.” Mary grinned, poking the side of the crate with her foot.

“I don’t have jelly bones!” Jack scoffed, folding his arms indignantly.

“Sure you don’t. However, I’ve heard people complain about back problems from sitting in ergonomic office chairs. I can’t imagine what they’d say folded up like a pretzel in some cardboard bin,” said Mary. “Besides, are you really going to pay $499 for a piece of wood with a pillow in it?”

Jack blanched. “Is it really that much?”

Mary nodded, “That’s furniture for you. If this even counts.” Jack deflated, his previous enthusiasm melting like forgotten ice cream. Mary checked her phone, noting the time. “Come on, let’s get going. I’ve got real errands to run.”

“Could I get some help?” Jack said sheepishly. “I’m a little stuck.”