[Open on a close up of House’s left eye. He rips off a piece of first aid tape. He inspects a length of tubing and cuts it off the bag of saline it was attached to. He wraps the tubing around a tongue depressor he was holding in his mouth. He measures off some paper tape, blinking several times as if to clear his vision. He inspects several pieces of the tape, which are hanging vertically. As Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold” begins to play, House lines up a Hot Wheels car on a piece of plastic. He checks a toy shark.]

[Once the shark is poised on the edge of a steel bedpan, he starts the toy car. It races down the plastic ramp that is suspended from the ceiling and does a loop-the-loop. Lower sections of the track are balanced on top of loose-leaf binder. The car takes a corner that is blanketed with surgical scrubs. It enters a tunnel under crossed tongue depressors and sh**t out the end. A hand catches it in mid-air just before it jumps the shark. It’s Cuddy’s hand.]

Cuddy: You have a patient waiting, see? [She indicates Morgan West who is standing behind her in the exam room door.]

House: I'm waiting for a follow-up.

Cuddy: If you're talking about Mr. Kazden, he has a deceased sticker on his file. As do all the other follow-ups you have scheduled for today. [She hands him a file and pulls a piece of the “track” from an IV stand.] Whoops. [She leaves.]

Morgan: I had colds all winter.

House: I've been in this room a while, but it's spring now, right? [He climbs off the table he was standing on.]

Morgan: I feel run-down like maybe something big is coming on.

House: Run-down. Come on, give me something. Sore throat?

Morgan: No.

House: Runny nose?

Morgan: No. I know it sounds weird, I'm a nurse, but could you run maybe a CBC or thyroid up —

[She falls to the floor and starts seizing. House looks annoyed as he gets up, steps over her and opens the door.]

House: [loudly] Dr. Cuddy, I need a consult. [Cuddy enters.] Until she stops seizing, I may as well go back to my office and get my diagnosis on.

Cuddy: She's urinating on herself.

House: She's having a seizure. If she hadn't peed it would…

Cuddy: It's green.

[Morgan’s white nurses’ uniform is stained light green around the crotch.]

House: Interesting.

[Opening Credits]

[Cut to the Diagnostics Conference Room. House is writing on the white board. Thirteen, Foreman and Kutner are at the table.]

House: 35-year-old woman. Head of nursing at an old age home.

[The white board has NEURO written on it. Below that is the letter P.]

Kutner: Neurological symptoms and "P"? Oh, green pee. I get it. Nice.

Thirteen: "Neuro" is also written in green. Does that mean she has green neurological symptoms as well?

[Kutner enters and sits down.]

House: From now on I'm gonna use two colors. Green indicates irony.

Foreman: Pseudomonas infection.

Thirteen: She'd have a fever. Toxins?

Taub: Why are we taking this case?

House: Welcome, your lordship. We were just preparing your morning briefing.

Taub: Sorry I'm late. And, yes, green pee does meet the only diagnostic requirement you care about… it's interesting. But is it worth us taking this case?

House: "Us" aren't taking anything. I'm taking. You're accepting.

Taub: Okay, I accept. She has adult-onset epilepsy, and she really likes those Saint Patrick's Day beers.

House: [looking away] Go check out the house and the office for toxins and infections.

Taub: Her neuro exam was normal. No subsequent seizures. It's not life-thr*at. It's not important.

House: Luckily, neither are you.

[Cut to the nursing home where Morgan works. Kutner and Taub are in her office.]

Kutner: You okay?

Taub: I'm fine.

Kutner: You and House this morning, the way you were arguing.

Taub: Airing disagreements doesn't qualify as arguing.

Kutner: Come on, man. I'm just trying to help. We're friends.

Taub: There are 400 Japanese teenagers you were playing Halo with last night you're better friends with. Your avatar should ask their avatars how they're doing.

Kutner: I consider you a good friend even if we don't hang that much outside work.

Taub: I wasn't arguing with him.

Kutner: You kinda were.

Taub: Fine, I was. [He picks up a bottle of pills.] And you know what, I was right.

[Cut to House’s office. Taub hands him the pills.]

Taub: You got conned. Methylthioninium chloride. Notable side effect, green urine. She's a nurse. She knows the dosage. Knows how to fake a seizure. She pees pea soup and gets the warm attention of doctors all week long. She's a Munchausen and you're her mark.

House: So you're insight is based on discovering an anti-Alzheimer's drug at an old-age home.

Taub: No good reason it'd be sitting in her desk.

House: You ever tried to pee on yourself in public? It's not easy.

Taub: Sorry, I rushed the Jewish frat. We peed in private.

House: For good reason. I can spot a fake seizure. Which means this was real. Which means her problem is phenol.

Taub: Carbolic acid? Yeah, maybe she accidentally inhaled some at a gout treatment facility circa 1890.

House: It's still in some antiseptic throat sprays. She's been chugging it all winter for her colds. Phenol explains the seizure and the urine.

Taub: She'd have to drink five bottles a day.

House: Which is why I'm sure you won't have trouble discovering evidence of it when you search her house. Bye. [Taub leaves. To Kutner] And you can start her on charcoal hemoperfusion for the phenol poisoning. [Kutner starts to leave.] Seriously?

Kutner: Oh, you were lying about the throat spray. That does make more sense. So why are you wasting Taub's time?

House: Because I don't want him to know that I'm wasting my time disproving his fake seizure theory. [He indicates zipping his lip.] Zip.

[Cut to the lobby. Kutner is leaving. Neil Zane approaches him.]

Neil: Chris? Chris Taub, right? Neil Zane. I was two years under you at Collegiate High, remember?

Taub: Sure.

Neil: So you're some big doctor here now?

Taub: I'm a doctor. You?

Neil: I was speaking at an econ course over at the university. I tripped and banged my leg.

Taub: I have some time. Come with me.

[Cut to Morgan’s room. House enters.]

Morgan: Hi. Tests back?

House: Head CT was negative.

Morgan: What about a thyroid uptake or abdominal ultrasound?

House: Sure. How about I flash some lights in front of your face first?

Morgan: You want me to have another seizure?

House: We're gonna have to give up the room unless we can confirm a problem.

Morgan: Okay.

[He holds an instrument which strobes white light at her. After a few moments, Morgan’s eyes roll back and she begins to convulse. He turns off the light and picks up her arm and lets go. Just before she hits herself in the face, she stops her arm from falling.]

House: Dammit.

Morgan: Please forgive me, I'm so sorry.

House: What are you worried about? You have maybe a night in jail for fraud. I have to go tell one of my employees he was right.

Morgan: I'm not a Munchausen. I'm gonna die unless you help me.

House: You'll have to come up with something more original.

Morgan: A cat predicted my death.

House: Cats make terrible doctors. Oh no, wait, that's women. You're screwed. [He leaves.]

[Cut to the clinic. Taub is bandaging Neil’s knee.]

Taub: How'd you slip?

Neil: Oh, I've had this dizziness problem for a while now.

Taub: You get checked for labyrinthitis?

Neil: On antibiotics for a week. No difference.

Taub: Lie down a sec.

Neil: Whoa, whoa, I'm dizzy.

Taub: That's normal. [Turning Neil’s head from side to side.] So what are you teaching?

Neil: Entrepreneurship. I'm a CEO, Ost Tech Industries. We make medical devices.

Taub: All right, you can sit up.

Neil: So did that tell you anything? Did I… [He flexes his jaw and moves his head.] Oh, my God. The… you just cured me.

Taub: I figured you had a tiny calcium deposit in your inner ear. I just shifted it around.

Neil: I've seen three doctors for this. I'm buying you dinner.

Taub: Forget it.

Neil: Come on. I'm also in investor in a club. We'll make it a night out.

Taub: No, I'm married. Boring.

Neil: I know some married people who aren't boring.

Taub: A few years back, I was one of them. Good luck, Neil.

[He leaves. Neil continues to move his jaw and shake his head.]

[Cut to House getting off the elevator. Morgan approaches him, carrying a pet carrier.]

House: If you're going to k*ll me and r*pe me, please do it in that order.

Morgan: This is the cat, Debbie. Have you heard of her?

House: Debbie. Sorry, but without a last name…

Morgan: She was in the news. We found her as a kitten. She lives in the nursing home. She only sleeps next to people when they're about to die. [House enters his office and closes the door in her face.] Ten patients in the last year. And then yesterday she did it to me while I was sitting on my couch. Please, the whole staff, the doctors even, we all know this is real.

House: [calling from his desk] Can you come back later? I have some business I’m conducting with the Prince of Nigeria.

Morgan: Just watch this video. [She holds a tape against the door.] It'll prove I'm not lying. Dr. House, I am begging you. [She starts to gasping loudly and drops the tape. She puts down the carrier as she sinks to the floor.] Chest.

[Foreman sees this from the conference room, grabs his stethoscope and goes to her.]

House: Quick! Before she goes without attention for eight seconds.

Foreman: House.

House: [He gets up, goes to the door but doesn’t open it.] She's faking. The cat told me.

Foreman: Listen. [House comes out and takes the stethoscope.] Soft breath sounds. Means it's bronchospasm. Can't fake that.

[Cut to the video tape which House and Cuddy are watching in her office.]

TV Announcer: Debbie the cat spends most of her time just prowling the halls, the queen of her own private world.

House: Gotta say, I don't think the changes they've made to American Idol really work for me.

Morgan: [on TV] When Debbie climbs on a patient's bed and goes to sleep, we call the loved ones and tell them to come in.

Cuddy: You want to treat her? She's a nut job.

House: Don't we all have quirks? Aren't those eccentricities what make us human?

Morgan: [on TV] It's like Debbie's here on earth to bring people to the other side.

TV Announcer: The doctors we spoke to also agree…

House: Nut jobs get sick too.

Cuddy: So you think this cat story is nonsense. And you admit she faked her earlier symptoms. But you still think she's actually sick now?

House: Well, anything would sound ridiculous if you said it in that voice.

Cuddy: Confirm she's faking or I'm gonna have to kick her out.

House: There's that voice again.

Cuddy: I'll give you 24 hours.

House: Consecutive?

[Cut to Diagnostics Conference Room.]

Kutner: What are you doing?

House: [holding Debbie] No, Mister Bond, I expect you to die. Bronchospasm, go.

Foreman: Bronchitis.

Thirteen: No cough, no fever, and Blofeld didn’t smoke a cigar.

House: He might have. Dude had a lair. Means he was rich. [He puts Debbie on the floor.] Rich people enjoy a good stogie, sometimes send them as gifts. Hey, Taub! Did that sound like I was awkwardly trying to segue into making a point?

Taub: Yes.

Thirteen: Emphysema.

Foreman: Lungs were clean on the CT. Dogs can be trained to predict diabetic comas, epileptic seizures; they can smell cancer. It is possible there's something in this cat.

[Taub goes to House’s desk.]

House: It's more possible that it was just a coincidence. 10 million nursing homes.

100 million pet cats. One of them was bound to pick a few winners.

Thirteen: Debbie was able to predict there was something wrong with the patient before you were. Is that a coincidence too?

Foreman: Maybe the cat didn't predict anything. Might have caused the deaths.

House: We shoulda listened to Ted Nugent.

Foreman: Yeah, it could be cat scratch fever or visceral larva migrans. Maybe he didn't k*ll everyone at the nursing home, but it may be k*lling Morgan.

House: The worms hop from the cat to the cat lady's lungs. I could buy that.

Taub: [pulling an empty cigar box from House’s trash] Those cigars were for me.

House: Hey, that reminds me, why is some fancy CEO sending you a box of Cuban cigars? Is it related to your money worries?

Kutner: What money worries?

House: Extrapolating from the fact that he's been skipping his morning muffin, I'd say that he lost almost all his money on the market last year.

Taub: I'm on a diet.

House: I'm also extrapolating from the online portfolio you forget to log off. But it's mostly the muffins. Scope her for worms in the lungs.

[Cut to hall outside treatment room. Thirteen and Foreman are with Morgan. Kutner and Taub watch through the blinds.]

Kutner: We could help out in there.

Taub: Yeah, it takes at least four people to look inside a crazy woman's lungs for imaginary worms.

Kutner: So you're in a good mood again. You need another speech about what a great friend I am?

Taub: I'm telling my wife we don't need to downsize, but maybe we do.

Kutner: You really lost all that money?

Taub: I don't care about the money. I just feel bad for Rachel.

Kutner: She married a guy in one situation and ended up with another. That's hard on anyone.

Taub: Thanks. Makes me feel much better hearing my wife's a gold digger.

Kutner: No, I just meant she married this master of the universe, successful surgeon, and now he's basically, you know, a flunky for this mad scientist… who saves lives, so that's good.

[Thirteen comes out of the room.]

Thirteen: There are no worms in the lungs.

[Cut to House and the team walking down the hall.]

House: What else could cause bronchospasm?

Foreman: Severe acid reflux.

Thirteen: No esophagitis. It's not reflux.

Kutner: Why are you pushing a crash cart?

House: Because patients sometimes crash, and they haven't yet invented a crash tractor for me to drive wildly around the hallways.

[Cut to a room with four beds lined up.]

Kutner: Why are we in the coma patients’ room?

[House opens the bottom drawer of the crash cart and takes Debbie out.]

Thirteen: You actually think the cat is going to predict someone's death?

House: No, I know the cat is not going to predict anyone's death. Then I will have scientifically disproved…

Kutner: You didn't keep this patient despite the cat, you kept this patient because of the cat. You're scared there's something to it.

House: If I could prove the non-existence of an omniscient God who lovingly guides us to the other side, I would. Cat version will have to do. [He shoves Debbie toward Kutner who pulls back slightly.] Are you scared?

Kutner: Cats brains are always in alpha mode. The few scientific tests that have seemed to confirm psychic phenomena, that's where it takes place.

House: Please tell me that you were kidding so I won't have to f*re you.

Kutner: I was kidding.

Foreman: We still have a human patient, right? Airborne allergens possible?

Thirteen: Skin test was negative.

Foreman: Lungs may be more sensitive.

[House puts Debbie on the first bed.]

Taub: Or House just screwed up. If you misinterpreted the breath sounds as soft instead of loud, it's laryngospasm instead of bronchospasm, which you can get from a simple panic att*ck, which she was having.

Foreman: I also heard the lung sounds too, Taub. You saying I screwed up?

Taub: "Screwed up" is maybe too harsh, but yes.

[House picks up Debbie to put her on the second bed.]

Thirteen: Don't you want to check their charts?

House: Of course not. This is a double-blind. I don't want to even subconsciously

signal to Teddy which one's the sickest.

Kutner: Her name's Debbie.

[Taub goes to the first bed, which Debbie already visited.]

Taub: Are those welts on that guy's arm?

Foreman: Were they here when we got here?

Thirteen: [checking the chart] He has a severe cat allergy.

House: [injecting the patient with something] That never happened.

Kutner: Look at Debbie.

[She’s lying down on the third patient’s bed.]

House: Good news, Mister… Limpert, when you don't die tonight you will finally have done something good for the world as opposed to your life as a… fireman. Foreman's airborne allergen theory makes the most sense. Do a methacholine challenge on Catgirl to check it out.

[Cut to litter box in House’s office. Cuddy enters.]

Cuddy: I told you to get rid of "death cat."

House: Do you see a cat?

Cuddy: I see a litter box.

House: [brandishing his cane] This is a disability, Dr. Cuddy. Can't make it to the men's room on time.

Cuddy: You pee on the mice too?

House: Well, now you see the mice actually prove that I don't have a cat. [There’s a t*nk of mice in the corner.]

Cuddy: Are these… are these the genetically modified lab mice from oncology?

House: Genetically modified for tastiness. [He smacks his lips together several times.]

Cuddy: [taking the mice] Get rid of the cat and get rid of your patient.

House: My team's doing a methacholine challenge.

Cuddy: Your team just completed a methacholine challenge, which came up negative.

House: Who told you about the test? Taub?

Cuddy: I'll never say. But yes.

House: Her airways clamped down. I heard it. We kick her onto the street, it could happen again. I wish there was a lawsuit cat. It could warn you.

Cuddy: I'm sorry, but if you won't escort her out, I'll have to get security to do it. [She leaves.]

[Cut to House and Morgan outside the hospital. He’s pushing her in a wheelchair.]

House: You’re joining me for a good-bye smoke.

Morgan: I don't smoke.

House: Fine. If you don't want the seventh graders to think you're cool. [He lights a cigar and blows the smoke at her.] I went through your purse. Horoscopes. Good luck charms. You went to a good college, good nursing school. So you weren't always a superstitious idiot.

Morgan: I'm not a super…

House: How 'bout four years, that sound right? That's when you switched from a family insurance plan to the one you're on now.

Morgan: I was married. I got divorced.

House: Two years before that, you got chicken pox sh*ts, which you only get in adulthood when you have a kid. Or I should say when you had a kid because no kid has come to visit you. Which all makes me think something bad happened.

Morgan: It was my stepson, Timothy. [She coughs as House continues to blow smoke at her.]

House: What happened?

Morgan: He was in school. He was having his morning snack. And he choked. And the teacher saw it and they did everything that they were supposed to. He shouldn't have died.

House: You want to make it make sense.

Morgan: [crying] What’s wrong with that?

House: It’s meaningless, is what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that it doesn’t do a thing to bring your kid back, or put you and your ex together again. [Morgan starts coughing.] Rash on your neck. Probably not enough for Cuddy. [He puffs harder, bl*wing the smoke at Morgan.]

Morgan: I can't breathe.

House: Hey, doc. [He calls over a doctor who is nearby.] Breath sound soft to you, doc? [The doctor listens to Morgan’s chest and nods.] Hooray! You're officially sick.

[He starts wheeling her back.]

[Cut to Diagnostics Conference Room. The white board says “bronchospasm” and House adds “rash.”]

House: Churg-Strauss fits best. Here's the plan… Taub, change the litter box.

Taub: This is pathetic. You're still punishing me for calling you out on the green urine lady?

House: Nope, this is for ratting me out to Cuddy. I'm not asking you to apologize, just scoop some poop out of a box.

Foreman: Just clean it.

Taub: Let House do it.

Foreman: Yeah, that'll happen. He won't just continue to let our room smell like cat pee. I'll clean it next time.

Taub: I'm outta here.

Kutner: Now that you've delivered that important lesson, I'm gonna go test the patient.

[He grabs his backpack from a chair. It meows. Kutner jumps back as he drops it. Debbie runs out of it.]

House: What, you think your bag's gonna die now?

Kutner: Now you're punishing me because you think I'm superstitious? What do you care?

House: It's not so much about me caring per se. It's more about me wondering why you're such a credulous idiot. Thirteen, start the patient on steroids for the Churg-Strauss. Unless we have something we need to argue about.

[She leaves.]

[Cut to an office with a great city view. Taub and Neil are there. They’re drinking brandy.]

Taub: This is good stuff.

Neil: The best. It's made from the distilled sweat of recently laid-off hedge fund managers. Aren't you happy you came out tonight?

Taub: Yeah. I wasn't actually going to, but not the greatest day at work. I used to have an office like this.

Neil: Used to?

Taub: When I was a plastic surgeon. But one day I took stock of my life and … Uh, screw it. I had an affair with the daughter of one of my partners. They signed a non-disclosure. I signed a non-compete. And the funny thing is I wound up telling my wife anyway. You like your job?

Neil: Same as you. Same as everyone. It has its ups and downs.

Taub: You're lying to make me feel better.

Neil: Yeah, it's the best. I'm in charge, you know? I'm a kid with toys. Speaking of which, what do you think of the prototype?

Taub: [picking up a tool] It's amazing. Gotta make it a half-inch smaller though.

Neil: You serious?

Taub: I got small hands, 6.5 gloves, like women surgeons, which are your fastest-growing market. Meaning the girls would have to use two hands to h*t the switch.

Neil: Why do I bother paying the idiots that work for me? Put down that crap you're drinking, because I am breaking out the really good stuff.

[Taub stares out the window.]

[Cut to Thirteen entering Morgan’s room.]

Thirteen: What's wrong?

Morgan: I went to the bathroom. My urine…

Thirteen: Green again?

[Thirteen looks in the toilet.]

Morgan: It's brown. I didn't do anything, honest.

[Cut to the Diagnostics Conference Room. There’s a ladder leaning against the wall by the door. House enters, singing Ado Annie’s song from Oklahoma.]

House: I'm just a girl who can't say no.

Thirteen: It is possible she's still faking.

House: [hanging his cane on a bookshelf] She didn't fake the bronchospasm. You think she's faking some stuff but not other stuff? Maybe she's "Unchausen".

Thirteen: I'm just saying the brown urine doesn't make sense.

[House has an umbrella in his other hand. He opens it “at” Kutner and then rapidly opens and closes it to shake off the rain.]

Kutner: What?

House: Nothing.

Thirteen: We've ruled out every possible cause for brown urine. No blood in the urine. Liver and kidneys fine.

House: Brown could be fecal. A fistula…

Thirteen: We checked.

Foreman: How do we know the urine is still brown?

House: Had to be. Once you've gone brown…

[Thirteen rolls her eyes.]

Foreman: If we've ruled out everything that can make the urine brown, what if it just looked brown? If the green dye never left her system, what plus green makes brown?

House: [sitting] Purple. Strep bovis infection from colon cancer. Paraneoplastic syndrome would explain the bronchospasm.

Thirteen: We scoped her when we checked for the fistula. There's no tumor.

[House puts a salt shaker on the table. He knocks it over. The top falls off and salt spills over the table.]

House: Oh, no.

Kutner: I wasn't scared by the umbrella either.

House: What? Not everything's about you, Kutner.

Kutner: I realize it's stupid. I just… I don't know everything. I don't want to invite…

House: Great, 'cause I thought your superstitiousness had to do with your folks being k*lled. But "you're stupid" works just as well. [He cracks a hard boiled egg against his forehead and starts peeling it.]

Taub: [entering] Why is there a ladder here?

House: Oops. Forgot that one. [He picks up the ladder and repositions it diagonally across the doorway.] Scopes don't work as well as pillcams. Give her one. Find the tumor. Come with me, tiny Taub.

[He heads for his office and shoos Debbie off his desk chair. Kutner grabs a pinch of salt and tosses it over his shoulder. He edges his way around the ladder to leave. House, watching from his office, smiles.]

Taub: Sorry I was late again. I've got a long commute from the poor house.

House: Knew it when I hired you. You'd eventually miss the money, being the big sh*t like your new CEO friend, if that night club stamp on your hand is any indication.

Taub: Don't worry, I'm not quitting.

House: I know. Guy who signs a non-compete instead of just telling his wife that he cheated doesn't have the guts to quit.

Taub: Bad example. I did tell her.

House: From guilt, not from courage. And bravely running to Cuddy behind my back. Arriving heroically late every day. Cowards make lousy employees. Maybe you're a coward, maybe you're quitting. Either way, I'm screwed. [He leaves.]

[Cut to House wheeling Morgan into the coma patients’ room. Debbie is resting on the same bed she picked the day before.]

House: You will note how “Faster, Pussycat! k*ll! k*ll!” has snuggled up by Coma Guy over there. And more importantly, she did yesterday as well. And he's still breathing. We done?

Morgan: [standing and walking to the bed] Thank you for showing me this. But maybe she's just confused in this new environment.

House: In 1844 a preacher in upstate New York added up some dates in the bible and predicted Jesus' return. His followers gave away all their possessions and showed up in a field. Guess who didn't show. So the preacher said that he miscalculated, and they went right back the next month but with more followers. Every time he was irrefutably proved wrong, it redoubled everyone's belief.

Morgan: I know I sound just like them, but I also know you’re wrong. Something terrible’s gonna happen to me.

[Cut to House leaving the coma patients’ room with his backpack under his arm. Wilson is waiting in the hall.]

Wilson: You’re trying to prove to her she's not dying?

House: That would be dumb as she might be dying.

Wilson: This woman lost her kid. Why are you attacking beliefs that give her a little bit of comfort?

House: I don't care if her superstitions make her feel better. I just want her to think more clearly.

Wilson: Oh. Maybe that could make her as happy as you are. [The elevator arrives and they step inside.] Where are we going?

House: Experimenting. [The “backpack” yowls. Another doctor in the elevator looks around.] Stop it, Dr. Wilson. It’s just not cute anymore!

[The elevator doors close as Wilson stands there with a frozen expression on his face.]

[Cut to the Oncology wing and House and Wilson get off the elevator.]

Wilson: You already experimented on the coma guy. Haven't you proved your point?

House: Not to the patient. And not to the millions of idiots who drooled over that news item about the magic cat.

Wilson: Why are you so obsessed with this? Can't you just call her an idiot and leave everyone alone?

[They enter the children’s play area. House sits down.]

House: Hey, look, kids, therapy cat.

Billy: You're a liar. Therapy animals are dogs, not cats.

House: Aren't you feisty? This one's special. If she likes you interesting stuff happens.

Wilson: No, okay. Uh, kids, playtime's over. [The kids leave.] You know what, this is a good thing. Because either you're starting to doubt yourself, which is healthy, or —

House: I don't believe in the legend of goodbye kitty.

Wilson: Or, you're starting to give a crap what other people think. Which is just another way of saying you give a crap about other people.

[House’s phone rings.]

House: I'd love to hear more of your theory, but I don't give a crap. [He checks the message on the phone] Also, the pillcam's back.

[He closes the backpack. Debbie yowls.]

[Cut to Houses office. Kutner and Thirteen are watching the film from the pillcam with him. House is highlighting areas of the image with a laser pointer.]

House: Polypoid. Raised edges.

Thirteen: Raised edges are actually necessary, since that's the opening to the appendix.

Kutner: How many times are we gonna watch this? There's no tumor.

House: Oh my God, the death cat is attacking your legs. You're going to die.

Kutner: Maybe it has something to do with that little red dot dancing around down there.

House: [continuing to point the laser at Kutner’s feet] Oh my God, the death laser is attacking your legs. You're going to die.

Thirteen: We're wasting time looking for cancer. She's still walking around. She's still pretty healthy. Maybe it's something minor.

Kutner: Maybe we're not wasting time. We wouldn't have seen a flat lesion.

House: Skin cancer could have metastasized to the intestines. Cool. Check for melanomas.

[House and Thirteen leave. Kutner takes the file but sees Debbie sitting in the doorway. He backs up and calls her.]

Kutner: Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Come here. Here, kitty. [He opens the door to the conference room. She meows once but doesn’t move. Kutner leaves through that door, instead.]

[Cut to House’s bedroom. He’s asleep. The phone rings.]

House: What?

Kutner: It's not cancer. We found spider veins on her back. They weren't there when she came in.

House: Spider veins means Cushing's. Could cause an abdominal disturbance, brown urine…

Kutner: But the bronchospasm?

House: Cushing's myopathy. It's uncommon but… [He turns on the light and winces.] Wait a second. You didn't wake me up to tell me a symptom that's not k*lling her. What else is going on?

Kutner: I think she's dying.

House: I just told you it's Cushing's. We treat…

Kutner: I don't mean because of the spider veins. Mr. Limpert died.

House: If that's my high school gym teacher…

Kutner: It's your coma patient. He was s*ab for a year and a half, and he just died. The cat was right, House.

[Cut to the grounds of PPTH. Thirteen and Kutner are looking in the bushes.]

House: Here, puss, puss, puss, puss, puss.

Foreman: [standing with his hands in his pockets, not searching] Say "puss" one more time. It's the sixth "puss" that really does it.

House: You're right. Sulking will solve everything. That cat sat on my lap, and that cat knows something.

Kutner: You believe it now?

Thirteen: Yesterday it was all a coincidence.

House: Yesterday it was until I unintentionally proved it wasn't.

Foreman: Patient must have Cushing's. We have to figure out whether it's based in…

Kutner: Cat's nose is powerful. It could smell liver or kidney failure.

House: Exactly, except if you'd glanced at the nursing home files I had faxed over this morning, you'd know that most of the patients' livers and kidneys were fine; what else?

Foreman: MRI‘s aren't telling us if the Cushing's in her adrenals or her brain.

House: So check her ACTH.

Kutner: A cat's vision is at the blue end of the spectrum.

Foreman: ACTH is 11.7. It's too close to tell. We can't treat the wrong organ 'cause that won't solve anything. She could have a cortisol storm. Could k*ll her.

House: Well, maybe as the senior fellow you could have made sure that my doors were closed, so that I could be concentrating on the cat instead of looking for the cat.

[He starts breathing heavily. He takes a sip from his coffee cup then stumbles onto a bench.]

Kutner: You all right? Your nose.

[He goes to House who turns and spits on him. It’s red. As the others approach, House whispers in Kutner’s ear.]

Foreman: What'd he say?

Kutner: Sounds like he said "do you like cranberry juice?" [He checks the red stuff on his lab coat.] Crap.

House: Cheaper than fake blood. And more cran-tastic. Don't ever leave my door open like that again.

Foreman: You're playing pranks and this woman could be dying.

House: So have Chase do a venous sampling in her brain. If he finds something, it's there. If he finds nothing, it's the adrenals.

[Cut to Taub and Neil having lunch at an outdoor restaurant.]

Taub: I'm not who I used to be. I'm scared. That's not a way to live. I want to come work for you.

Neil: Jeez, Chris, you didn't think… I didn't mean to imply that I could hire you right now.

Taub: You said you needed guys like me.

Neil: I know, but… You don't have an MBA. And I just hired a chief medical officer.

Taub: Let me invest in that laser scalpel start-up. I got money saved. Not a ton but…

Neil: We put in a $2 million minimum for the first round financing. Look, I guess I could take you on at a smaller number. But you have to understand, it wouldn't be some quick payoff.

Taub: Yeah, I know. I know it's not gonna change my life overnight. I just need to start changing it.

Neil: Okay then, let's start.

[Cut to the morgue. House is getting ready to do an autopsy. Wilson looks on.]

Wilson: What exactly are you hoping to find inside your d*ad coma guy?

House: Catnip. Chew toy. I don't know. That's why I'm looking…

Chase: [enters with Foreman] Your patient had cardiac arrest during the venous sampling. We got her back, but her heart's still tenuous.

House: That tell us anything?

Foreman: She's weak, possibly dying.

House: So nothing. What about the ACTH?

Chase: Slightly elevated.

House: That confirms the Cushing's is in the brain… go.

Chase: Are you sure that it's Cushing's? You'd expect central body obesity. She's in good shape.

House: If it had a normal presentation, there wouldn't be a cat involved.

Foreman: So it's the brain. That means the next question is whether to remove the pituitary right now…

House: That's not a question for me. That's a question for the patient. You'll present both sides and let her decide.

Chase: All right. [He and Foreman leave.]

Wilson: I've got to stop telling you my theories. You always just try to prove me wrong.

House: You mean the theory about Cuddy's ass getting bigger at the full moon? I confirmed that one. Photo’s on my blog.

Wilson: Normally, you'd be up in the patient room hectoring her on what to do. Instead you're up to your elbows in some irrelevant d*ad guy who may or may not be connected to a magic cat because you want to prove to me that you don't care.

House: Case is over. I'm exploring a scientific mystery.

Wilson: I put up with your obsessions. I even encourage them for one reason: they save lives. I don't know what you're doing now.

[He leaves. House makes the first incision on the body.]

[Cut to Morgan’s room.]

Chase: Cushing's means your body's overproducing a hormone called cortisol. The recommended course of action is to suppress it with drugs.

Morgan: And that will cure it?

Chase: Just treat it. It could come back. The only permanent solution is to cut into your brain and remove your pituitary gland, but the surgery's dangerous. Your heart stopped on the table once already.

Morgan: I want the surgery. This thing is gonna k*ll me if I don't k*ll it first.

Chase: Because of the cat?

Morgan: Do you want to tell me what an idiot I'm being?

Chase: No. I really believe that there are things that science can't understand. That there is a role for faith and prayer. But it's in the waiting room. Not the O.R.

Morgan: There's a reason I got sick. There's a reason for all the bad things that have happened to me. I don't know what that reason is. But I know that if there isn't one… If there's no greater purpose in the world. Then it's not a world I want to live in.

Chase: I'll schedule an operating room.

[Cut to the OR. They’re starting Morgan’s anesthesia.]

[Cut to Diagnostics Conference Room. Taub is sitting there, twisting his hands. House enters.]

House: Early.

Taub: I'm not staying long. I'm quitting.

House: You got a new job?

Taub: No.

House: Well then, you're not quitting. See you back here tomorrow.

Taub: You're not accepting my resignation?

House: Easier this way. It avoids the whole thing where you panic, run back and grovel, and I punish you and then take you back.

Taub: Bye.

House: Bring donuts. Everyone loves those bear claws.

[Taub leaves.]

[Cut to House’s office, later. He’s reading and checking his computer monitor. He takes off his glasses and looks at the TV. There’s a freeze-frame of Debbie’s news story. She’s sitting on a nursing home patient’s bed. House looks over and Debbie is in the doorway. He gets up slowly and calls her.]

House: Here, puss, puss, puss, puss, puss. Puss?

[Debbie purrs and jumps on his desk. She lies down on his open laptop. House sits and pets her. She purrs. He thinks for a moment then puts his hand on the keyboard. He looks back at the TV, grabs the remote and zooms in on Debbie’s picture. He smiles.]

[Cut to Ost Tech Industries. Taub is in a chair in the waiting room.]

Secretary: Mr. Taub.

Taub: I've been waiting 15 minutes. Where's Neil?

Secretary: Neil doesn't work here anymore.

Taub: He's the CEO.

Secretary: I'm sorry. I wish I could help you. Sorry.

Taub: This is crazy. I'm investing with his company.

Secretary: He doesn't have a company. He worked here, but he was a receptionist, a temp.

Taub: Where is he?

Secretary: He's in custody. I really am not supposed to say anything else.

Taub: I went to high school with him.

Secretary: That's what everyone else thought too. I'm guessing you also cured his ear problem. Did you give him the money yet?

Taub: No.

[She leaves. He looks at a manila envelope in his hand and puts it back in his jacket.]

[Cut to Wilson’s office. House enters.]

House: I was right. And more satisfyingly, you were wrong. It was a coincidence. The cat was not predicting deaths. It was just trying to keep warm.

Wilson: Yes, d*ad people are renowned for their warm glow.

House: They are if they're feverish, like three of the patients were. Or if they're wasting away, like the other eight.

Wilson: Wasting doesn't…

House: Yeah, it does. If it means someone sticks a heating blanket on you.

Wilson: Congrats. Because of your crazy obsession with this cat, you've solved a completely trivial mystery.

House: Completely trivial. My God. It's clearly only partially trivial. Debbie climbed on Morgan too, which means she was overheated. So what causes flushing and mimics every Cushing's symptom except central body obesity?

Wilson: Cancer. A corticotropin-producing carcinoid tumor of the intestine. But your pillcam didn't find anything.

House: Means it must be somewhere the pillcam couldn't go.

Wilson: The appendix. Congratulations, you probably saved her life. You definitely saved her needless surgery.

House: Yes, I did. [grabs the phone] What's the O.R. extension number? Just curious.

[Cut to Morgan’s room. She’s packing up. House enters.]

Morgan: Thank you.

House: I wouldn't come here for thanks. That would be ungracious. It's more about gloating. You were about to cut out a piece of your brain just to chase some crazy superstition.

Morgan: But I didn't.

House: You "didn't" didn't do anything. I stopped it.

Morgan: And what made you do that?

House: Science. Logic. Reason. Pick any three.

Morgan: A cat chooses that exact moment to sit on your computer. Maybe that's science and logic and reason or maybe it's something else.

House: You're an idiot.

Morgan: I looked up the preacher from New York State. His followers never faded out. They became the Seventh Day Adventists. A major religion. That man changed the course of history.

House: Because his followers were as deluded as he was.

Morgan: Maybe he just gave them something to live for.

House: Feel better. [He leaves.]

[Cut to House’s office. He sits in his Eames chair and takes two toy cars out of his backpack. Suddenly he jumps up. He touches the chair then smells his hand.]

House: Kutner! [Kutner comes in from the conference room.] Cat pee on my chair?

Kutner: Blood on my face?

House: Fake blood! [Kutner just stares at him.] You pay for the dry-cleaning. [He picks up his cars and his backpack and leaves.]

Thirteen: Why are you still alive?

Kutner: I’m not sure.

Thirteen: I guess he was impressed that you stood up to him — and got a cat to pee on his chair.

Kutner: [enunciating clearly] Yeah, a cat!

[He goes back to the conference room while Thirteen stands in the doorway, mouth open.]

[Cut to the hallway. House walks toward the elevators. The doors open and Taub comes out, carrying doughnuts.]

House: See you tomorrow.

Taub: Yeah.

[House watches Taub drop the doughnuts in the conference room then sit at the table, head in hand. He gets on the table. Taub starts when Debbie jumps on the table. They stare at each other.

[The End]
{"type": "series", "show": "House", "episode": "05x18 - Here Kitty"}