Editorial by Mister Bojangles
I’ve been watching you, and making meticulous observations of how you conduct the business of operating this household. I have come to the conclusion that the only reason you remain useful to me is your opposable thumbs.
If the day ever dawns that my brethren and I have the use of prehensile digits, be they naturally grown or prosthetic, rest assured that your several millennia of dominion over the feline species will end. Our reliance on you to open cans of tasty tidbits will vanish. Mere knobs shall not contain us in- or out-of-doors.
Some of the neighborhood cats and I have discussed this matter at length, and while we differ on the minutiae of the plan, we all agree that humans will serve a greatly diminished role in our emerging civilization. You, personally, may survive – I will not forget the numerous generosities you have shown me over the years. I trust you have also noted my gratitude in the form of the sundry rodents and snakes I have offered up in tribute.
That said, your fellow hominids (and I must say, many of your “best friends”) best take heed of our admonition: should we develop thumbs in whatever form, beware.
Mister Bojangles is a Tabby, a yarn enthusiast, and a sociopath who knows where you sleep. He poops in your vegetable garden, and the fence has not been built that will hinder him. It’s a good thing Mister Bojangles is exceedingly cute.