My human, in a fit of what I can only assume was profound boredom, has cluttered my floor with this... collection of wooden sticks and blocks. They call it a "train set." From what I can gather, it's an elaborate system for moving tiny things from one spot on the rug to another, a profoundly pointless endeavor. The wooden construction is a slight improvement over the usual cheap plastic refuse they bring home, I'll grant it that. However, the true—and perhaps only—redeeming feature appears to be a small crane with a magnetic, dangly bit. A dangly bit has potential for swatting and pouncing. The rest of it, the little cars and cargo blocks, seem destined to be "misplaced" under the sofa. It remains to be seen whether this contraption will provide genuine interactive sport or simply be a new, inconveniently shaped bed.
I observed the unpacking ritual from my throne atop the warm, vibrating box the humans call a "refrigerator." The Tall One was on the floor, making cooing noises while connecting pieces of wood into a loop. An affront, really. That section of the living room rug gets the best afternoon sun, and they were trespassing with this nonsense. Once assembled, it was just a strange, lumpy circle of wood. I yawned, displaying my magnificent disinterest, and began a meticulous grooming of my pristine white bib.
My nap was, of course, interrupted. A clicking sound, followed by the human making a "choo-choo" noise that was frankly embarrassing for a species that considers itself dominant. I cracked open a single green eye. A small red engine was being pushed along the track. Tedious. But then, my gaze drifted to the yellow tower in the center. The human twisted a knob, and a string descended, a small magnetic claw at its end. It hovered, then latched onto a little blue cube with a satisfying *clink*. The cube was lifted into the air. It swayed. It *dangled*.
Every fiber of my being, from the tips of my soft gray ears to the twitching end of my tail, snapped to attention. This changed everything. I flowed from the refrigerator to the floor in a single, silent motion, my paws making no sound. I crouched, my body low, a sleek hunter in a gray-and-white tuxedo. The human, noticing my sudden, intense focus, grinned and swung the blue cube gently. A test. I allowed it to pass once, twice, gauging its trajectory.
On its third pass, I unleashed the fury. A single, perfectly aimed paw-strike sent the cube spinning wildly on its string. The magnet was surprisingly tenacious, refusing to release its prize. A worthy adversary! I batted it again, a flurry of left and right hooks. The human laughed, lowering the crane to let me "capture" my prey. I pinned the blue block to the carpet with one paw, victorious, and gave it a ceremonial bite. After a few more minutes of this thrilling hunt, I decided the toy had proven its value. I strolled to the center of the track loop, curled up directly on the intersection, and began a well-deserved nap, dreaming of the magnetic sky-beast I had so skillfully vanquished. The railroad was officially mine.
