My human, in her infinite and often misplaced enthusiasm, has presented me with what she calls a "Doorable." Based on my initial, thorough sniff-down and observation, it is a small, static plastic effigy of some cartoon character, notable only for its disproportionately large, sparkly eyes. It comes in a cardboard box, which is, as always, the most promising component of any new acquisition. The creature itself is about the right size to be batted under the sofa, a location from which my staff is frequently required to retrieve my belongings. While the concept of "collecting" these seems a tedious human endeavor, the light-reflecting quality of the eyes and the skittering potential of the object itself might just make it a worthy opponent for a brief, pre-dinner skirmish. It remains to be seen if it can hold my attention longer than a dust bunny.
The offering was presented with the usual fanfare. The human made cooing noises and dangled a small, brightly-colored box just above my nose. I gave her a look of deep disdain, the one I reserve for when she serves my pâté five degrees too cold, before turning my head away. The box smelled of cheap cardboard and the faint, chemical scent of plastic. Another bauble destined for the shadowy abyss beneath the entertainment center. Still, she persisted, tearing the box open with a sound that grated on my delicate ears. The box itself, shaped like a miniature door, was mildly intriguing, but what fell out onto the rug was an insult.
It was a tiny blue creature, some sort of alien dog-thing with offensively enormous ears. It stood there, frozen in a jaunty pose, an idiot grin plastered on its face. I was preparing to deliver my final verdict—a flick of my tail and a swift departure to a more dignified napping spot—when a sliver of afternoon sun pierced the window. The light hit the creature's eyes, and they exploded in a flash of mesmerizing, cheap-looking glitter. My own eyes, superior in every way, widened. The hunter within, the ancient spirit that slumbers beneath my soft, gray tuxedo exterior, stirred.
With the calculated grace of a seasoned predator, I uncurled from my position on the rug. I approached the little blue idol slowly, my white paws making no sound on the floor. I extended a single claw, the tip just barely emerging from its velvet sheath, and gave the figure a gentle tap. It shot across the hardwood, spinning as it went, the glittery eyes catching the light with every rotation. The sound was a satisfying, high-pitched *skitter-skitter-skitter* before it came to a rest near the leg of the coffee table.
I crouched low, my tail giving a slow, deliberate twitch. This was no mere piece of plastic. This was prey. I pounced, not with the intent to destroy, but to control. I batted it again, this time with more force, sending it sliding directly under the sofa. Perfect. A challenge. The human clapped her hands, a sound I chose to interpret as applause for my magnificent prowess.
The little blue creature was, in itself, meaningless. But as a tool for a proper game of floor hockey, it showed promise. It was fast, unpredictable, and its sparkly eyes mocked me from the darkness under the furniture. The game was afoot. I would allow this "Doorable" to remain in my kingdom. For now. Its true purpose had been revealed, not as a collectible for a clumsy human, but as a worthy adversary for a cat of my considerable talents.
