Painted towards the end of my first marriage; Poor Tiddles, the cat, was about the only positive thing we had going. Broke and living in a slum, the marriage feeling more like a prison day by day, something had to brake.
Interestingly enough I was visited by a fellow artist at this time who, after expressing some amazement, pulled out his sketch book and showed me his idea for a painting. The cat, the hospital bed, the flag stones, the prison-like window, the light-bulb, and the fire; they were all there. Only the two figures, that I added later, were missing.