It’s taken me decades to complete but I’m finally ready to show the world my greatest work: a musical about cats. Ever since I was a boy, I dreamed of writing a three-hour show about loosely-connected cats introducing themselves through loud song. I made it my entire life’s work to write the greatest, and only, cat-based musical in the history of the world. And now I’ve done it.

I don’t expect immediate recognition. Family and friends were dismissive when I first mentioned it in the mid-1970s. But I’ve had decades to let the public sentiment sway in my favor and I have a good feeling the viewing public will warmly receive my inventive and never-before-done sung-through musical about feline friends.

It’s true that after I woke up from my forty-five-year coma last week, I was tempted to change gears. But I couldn’t temper my passion. The world needs at least one musical about cats. Probably no more than that, though, which is why I’m so excited. Once I complete my magnum opus, the genre will be done forever.

All my eggs are in this basket. I’ve staked my reputation, my career, and my life savings on this cat musical. No one thought this was a wise move, but I’ll show them. They wanted me to invest in hare-brained schemes like something called Microsoft, but what can I say, the spirit of the '70s runs through my veins. They’ll soon realize I put my $275,000 nest egg to good use.

Even though I’ve been comatose for four decades, it feels like my original characters have been right by my side. Cats like Grizabella and Mungojerrie, and who can forget Bustopher Jones? Not me, because I created him.

They say the mind is blank in a coma, but mine was filled with cats! All I could think about in the dark fog of unconsciousness were delightful furry friends galavanting in song. Now, it wasn’t all fun and games. I was always stuck on the framing, but then I had an ingenious original idea: what if each cat is competing for a grand prize? It’s out there, I know, and I’m sure modern audiences may not really get what is going on, but sometimes true genius is a little puzzling.

Sometimes while my physical therapist Luke massages my atrophied calves, my mind runs wild with the possibilities for my musical about cats. It’ll grace the stage year after year, becoming an institution of sorts. I bet they’ll make a movie out of it, and boy will that go well. I have a good sense for these things.

All I need to do is reconnect with my good friend Andrew. He’s made a name for himself on the West End and loved hearing about my cats musical idea. My proudest moment was when he said the idea was good enough to steal. I bet he’ll be sitting front and center on opening night for my original stage musical, “Felines.”

And hey, if this doesn’t work out, at least I’ve got that funky musical about a phantom in an opera.