You like to refer to your buddy Schrödinger and his [apparently involuntary] feline participant, and you rely on the proposition that the lid on the box is closed, so there is no way we can know whether this four-legged prisoner is extant.Like everyone else on this particular planet, however, I make my decisions base on what is my best information, and not divine information (i.e., the absolute status of the furry fellow inside the container). In that regard, I would refer you to one of my own acquaintances, William of Ockham, and his well-known razor. I might also refer you to Indiana poet James Whitcomb Riley (1849–1916) who wrote “when I see a bird that walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, I call that bird a duck.”

Either way, we do not require Schrödinger's apparently divine level of omniscience to see that "something's rotten in the state of Denmark," as the Bard so succinctly put it.

I believe that π is an irrational number; I do not have to perform the calculation personally.