In an animal shelter at 1997 N Clybourn Ave in Chicago there were eight kittens who all slept together, ate together, and played together. All the kittens were cute, all the kittens were playful, but one of them would be very different from the rest: Henry. It was late at night, when most of the workers had gone home, that Henry called together the first ever feline orchestra. He would have Harold and Matthew jump on some pie tins from the kitchen for the snare drums, Alissa would pluck the string holding the catnip mouse, and the rest would sing.

The book Henry was using wanted mallets instead of jumping kittens so it took some time for Henry to show his percussionists the proper technique. When everyone was finally ready he stood on the counter and raised his baton in the air. This was followed by a glorious outpouring of sound. Harold and Matthew jumped on each other’s pie tins and Alissa loudly pounced on the string until it snapped.

After a few seconds, the cats heard someone rushing up the stairs. They stopped playing and ran under the couch. Melanie the night worker stared around the empty room and said perplexedly “WHAT WAS THAT GREAT PANJANDRUM?” Hiding under the couch, Matthew poked Henry and said “That was you, you are the ‘Great Panjandrum,’” and that became what everybody called him.

So now you know how the Great Panjandrum got his name.