by Stella Salmen

Created on: March 19, 2010

Thumbs.

It just isn’t fair. I need those giant “people” things only because I lack thumbs. Boy, if I had thumbs I could open those cans of meat. I could let myself in and out that swinging wood thing that blocks my way to the yard. Yes, all for the lack of thumbs.

I figure the Universe gave them thumbs because of all the other stuff they don’t have.

I mean “people” can’t turn their heads far enough to lick their spines – must be why they drench themselves in that nasty water – brrrrrr!

They also tend to trip when walking in the dark, so I guess they don’t see well with out those shining things on the table, oh, and the one on the ceiling of the food room.

The dog says that they don’t smell too good either. I thought he was talking about that smelly stuff they put on after getting out from under the nasty water sprayer thing (again, brrrrrrrr!), but he said no, he meant that every time he tries to tell them that he smells something, they look at him with that blank stare, and just pat him on the head and walk away. Personally, I never noticed that. If I smell something I go after it myself. Unlike Dog, I don’t need to keep running to the “people” for acknowledgement. Dog is so insecure.

 Anyway, I was in the food room, and I smelled something just wonderful, but it was on the counter.  Well, I just stepped back, pushed my butt up in the air, wiggled a little and sprang on up to check it out. CATNIP! I just love that stuff! So, I pushed the tub off the counter onto the floor where I would have more room to work. I batted at it. I struck it with my claws. I rolled that tub under the table and wedged it against the wall. I tried to pry the lid off with my head, but all to no avail.

 Dog looked at me and told me it was useless. “Of COURSE it’s useless”, I hissed at him, “I don’t have THUMBS!” Dog is really dumb.

Well, after a few more minutes of trying, I decided that it was futile, so I laid down for a nap. What else was I going to do? My food bowl was empty, and I can’t refill it. The wood swingy thing was blocking my way to outside. The catnip was sealed in the impossible to open tub.  Best thing to do was get some sleep until my “people” came back. It would be hours before the machine that kidnaps them every morning would return. Until them, utter boredom.

 If only I had thumbs.

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