Where I Use My Teeth

The man-feeder has been avoiding me frequently as of late. I observe him wasting more and more of his time on the letter squares. He will begin early in the morning, and continue well beyond acceptable feeding times. Oh, I hear the sorrow in his voice when he finally does feed me with a pat or two upon my head (which I relish, but let's not lose focus). Still, situations such as these call for a response, and as the responsible party, I must respond. My fur grows dustier by the day, and gathers. I fear I may soon expire if the excess fur remains attached to my person.

Obviously, this problem requires a solution, and I believe I have just the one. The man-feeder uses a set of letter squares that plug into the front of the big black box. If I could find a way to disable the letter squares, then the man-feeder would be forced to do something else, e.g. pet my belly. I begin to collect my thoughts.

My first attempt is to pull the cord away from the big black box. I grab at it with my paws while the man-feeder sleeps. I continue to pull, but to no avail. The cord remains in place. I attempt to pull the cord away from the letter squares, but this still yields no results either. Clearly, a more drastic approach is required.

I use the utensils given me by creation; I begin to gnaw at the cord. There is a dark outer covering which has no flavor, but this must be done. I continue to gnaw until I am through the outer layer and digging into the inner metal wiring. It takes me nearly all night, but as the day begins to break, I have cleaved the cord in two. At long last, I can rest and wait for the man-feeder to have nothing to do but caress me.

I awake with a fright. Clearly, the man-feeder is upset. Loud noises explode from his mouth, and he is staring at me and pointing his finger. I take that as my cue to escape, and scurry away to a bedroom for safety. Eventually the noises die down, and I hear the man-feeder slam the door shut to the great outdoors. I finish my nap.

When I awake, I hear the tapping of letter squares. I saunter into the work room where the man-feeder is tapping away. I see the cord unaffected, as if I hadn't done a thing. The man-feeder has replaced the old letter-squares with a new version that has lights and a thicker cable. He looks at me threateningly, but I am undeterred. It might take more than a single night, but I will succeed again. Then perhaps the man-feeder will see the error of his ways and spend a little more time removing my excess fur. Only time (and a few teeth) will tell.