THE LIVING ROOM — For years, this household has operated on one simple principle: when something is destroyed, it was Atticus. That certainty collapsed this week when forensic investigators confirmed that the couch — the beloved plaid landmark, gathering place, and load-bearing institution of family life — was destroyed by Bean.
The evidence is described as "overwhelming." The claw marks match a cat of Bean's exact paw size. The scratching pattern shows the discipline and repetition of a trained athlete. And multiple witnesses report seeing Bean sharpening his claws on the armrest "daily," "openly," and "while making eye contact."
Bean's press office initially denied everything, releasing a statement claiming the couch "was like that when he got here" — a position complicated by archive photos showing the couch intact, and by the fact that Bean was raised on that couch from kittenhood.
By Wednesday, the office had revised its position to "the couch is a scratching post with delusions," and by Thursday, to a single defiant statement: "The couch served its purpose. The couch served me."
Atticus, suddenly and unprecedentedly innocent, has reportedly struggled with the development. Sources close to the black cat say he has spent the week following family members around meaningfully, as if to say "do you see it now? Do you see what I've been dealing with?" He has also, sources confirm, continued to sleep on the destroyed couch, calling it "actually more comfortable now."
The household has responded the way it responds to all of Bean's scandals: an internal review, cleared of wrongdoing, case closed, "look at his little face." A replacement couch is under consideration and, analysts project, will last approximately eleven days.