Interview: Vesper, the Schrödinger’s Cat of Theatre

KC Thomas on the development process of her show.

Schrödinger’s cat is a thought experiment where it is argued that a cat inside a box is both dead and alive at the same time. KC Thomas‘ Sorry I Can’t Come Into Work, My Cat Died is therefore surely the theatrical equivilent of Schrödinger’s Cat, except here Vesper the cat is not in a box, rather scooting around the stage on a skateboard, but is very much both dead and alive at various stages of the show!

The show recently performed at Canal Cafe, where we said it “offers a lovely suggestion of what it could become with further development.” That development is very much in KC’s mind, with its next iteration soon be appearing at Etcetera Theatre (30 November, tickets here). And as we here at ET Towers are always excited to hear about the work that goes into creating a show, it was our joy to sit down with KC to delve a little deeper.

Hi KC, lovely to chat. We’ve already reviewed the show this year when you did a short run at Canal Cafe, but what can you tell those who might have missed it about it?

Hey Rob! Thanks for having me! Sorry I Can’t Come Into Work, My Cat Died. is an absurdist dark comedy solo show about the fallout after Ivy calls into work, genuinely believing her cat, Vesper, is dead – only to discover that Vesper is still very much alive.

It’s a piece that explores grief, loneliness, avoidance, and accountability – but through a lens of complete absurdity.

Vesper the cat is played by a Furby on a skateboard, and Ivy is played by me (a person who cannot skateboard). It also features the brilliant voices of Debbie Bridge as Ivy’s mom, Brittany Rex as HR and other voices, Christian Prior as the Landlord, Boss, and various others, and Perry Brookes as Karl.

Whilst the show is billed as an absurdist comedy, it is also about dealing with grief, how do you use the comedy to confront the grief?

Honestly, a line comes to mind immediately when thinking about this question: “Oh, you know! Depression!”

I’ve always had a very laugh-so-you-don’t-cry approach to life and a dark sense of humor, so a comedy about grief just feels natural. Grief is something we all carry with us – it shapes our stories, our behaviour, and who we become. So rather than avoid it, I like to work with it.

Comedy gives us a safe distance to look at the pain, poke at it a bit, and maybe even find something human in the ridiculousness of it all – in a way that brings people together and invites a sense of catharsis.

You’ve been very open about the real life inspiration for Vesper the cat, was that the initial catalyst for writing the show?

Mostly, yes! The TL;DR for everyone here: I began fostering a senior cat named Dottie in February 2025 after her owner had passed away. She had a load of medical issues and, up to that point, had been quite reserved and depressed – but as soon as she came to live with us, she did a complete 180. She started chasing our other two cats, demanding treats and cuddles, and occasionally stealing bits of dinner. She had this huge personality, and we bonded hard.

Then in May, she took a sudden turn, and we had to make the difficult decision to give her peace. It hit us harder than expected. Packing up all her things to return to the charity we fostered her through was brutal. The grief and guilt were unshakeable, and I remember how strange it felt to call into work. It’s not like she was a person. She was a cat. And not everyone is a cat person.

A couple of weeks later, I was sitting in my living room trying to come up with ideas for a solo show – something I’d been wanting to do for a while. I looked up at the space where we keep her urn and her favorite toy, and I just remembered that moment of guilt when calling in, and thought: “Oh, yeah, sorry, I can’t come into work! My cat died! Christ!”

And that was the lightbulb moment. That had to be the show.

There’s a clear move towards a better work/life balance and corporate wellbeing in the last few years, do you feel the show addresses those changes and how much more we still need to do towards mental health, stress and of course coping with grief?

Ooh, this is a loaded one. There’s definitely been a push towards a better work-life balance in recent years, but lately, it feels like a lot of corporate culture is quietly backtracking on that supposed commitment to employee wellbeing.

Sorry I Can’t Come Into Work, My Cat Died. is satire in that it pokes fun at the performative empathy we so often see in workplace culture. The “check-in” emails, the mindfulness seminars, the pizza Fridays – all the things that are meant to make you feel cared for, but mostly just paper over burnout and emotional exhaustion.

Ivy is the embodiment of that burnout. She’s grieving, but she’s also terrified of being seen as unprofessional or “too emotional.” And I think that’s what a lot of us wrestle with: trying to compartmentalise and maintain this illusion of composure, especially around grief that doesn’t always get taken seriously – like losing a pet.

You’re now heading back for a night at Etcetera Theatre, what changes can we expect in the new version?

Yes, we’re back and better than ever, baby! The themes and structure of the piece remain, but it’s had a massive rewrite: sharper jokes, A Whole New Karl™, and a stronger ending. I’ve really focused on tightening the pacing, raising the stakes, and refining the emotional beats so the story hits harder – without losing any of its absurdity or heart.

And how much did you learn from those Canal Cafe performances to make these changes?

While I didn’t get a ton of direct audience feedback, rewatching the Canal Café recording and reading your extremely thoughtful review helped me see where I needed to kill a few darlings. In the first scene especially, I portrayed depression and grief a bit too accurately – which would be great if I were making a brooding experimental piece starring, I don’t know… Jared Leto.

Your review line – “putting both her job and accommodation at risk; two facets that give life some solid grounding” – was actually what made the lightbulb go off. I realized I needed to structure the show around Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, which, for anyone unfamiliar, is a psychological theory suggesting people must satisfy their basic needs before pursuing higher ones like love, self-esteem, and personal growth. It’s usually depicted as a pyramid, with self-actualization at the top.

Once I started thinking in those terms, I asked myself: “Okay, how can I play Jenga with this pyramid in each scene? Which pillar is getting knocked out this time?” That framework gave me much sharper clarity about Ivy’s (small but meaningful) arc, and let me use Vesper more deliberately as her moral compass.

One of the highlights of the show was the silliness of how you presented Vesper. As the show develops and you maybe have a bigger budget, are you looking at making her more realistic or can we expect the silliness to remain?

Oh, the skateboard’s not going anywhere! And (barring a cease-and-desist from Hasbro) neither is the Furby – which I gutted, stuffed (so it won’t break anyone’s nose mid-flight), and weighted with Pokémon cards for that perfect, harmless heft.

Should a bigger budget come along (I’m looking at you, producers, my inbox is open!), the main thing I’d want to upgrade is the set. I’d love to go for something more conceptual. Maybe inspired by M.C. Escher’s Relativity (the labyrinth of stairs), to really mirror Ivy’s chaotic inner world.

I’d also love to find a way to rig Vesper so that the meows come directly from her. Because if we’re doing absurdism, we might as well go full haunted Furby!

The Canal Cafe and Etcetera dates are all part of the development process, so after these, what ideally is your next step in bringing the show to the world?

Oh, you know, performing to sold-out crowds at Edinburgh Fringe 2026. Casual.

Jokes aside (though… I mean, that would be a dream!), I’d love to premiere the show at EdFringe either this summer or next. The goal is for this summer, though, unless I get someone else on board soon, I’ll probably end up clawing my way to Edinburgh and losing whatever sanity (and savings) I have left doing so.

That said, I’m still going to go for it, and if this is the best year for it: great, let’s get at it! If 2027 feels stronger, I’ll do that instead. In the meantime, I’ve also written a short film called Somewhere Loud, which goes into production early next year – so whichever way the timing shakes out, 2026 is shaping up to be a pretty wild year creatively.

Thanks to KC for taking the time out of rewrites and stuffing furbies to chat with us. Sorry I Can’t Come Into Work, My Cat Died will next play at Etcetera Theatre on Sunday 30 November. Tickets and further information available via the below link.