The Lighted Room

There's a room I can see, day and night and night and day; the light is forever on. The close shade drawn. The far shade half open. Sometimes I see a cat. Mostly I see nothing at all but a light forever on in an empty lonely room.

Is the switch hidden? Have the residents forgotten that the room exists? How many days and nights, weeks and weeks, has the light been on for no one but an errant cat?

I once witnessed the residents bring home a new puppy. The puppy never again was let outdoors for days and days, weeks and months. Maybe the puppy lives in the room forever lit.

Forgetful. Noncaring. Nonplussed. 

Perplexed, I continue to witness, the room with the light forever forgotten and on.