One Corner of Sky Claimed; Humans Mourn Their Summer Scene

The box landed on the dining room table—my auxiliary napping dais—with a thud that disturbed my morning slumber. I opened one green eye, saw the garish illustration of a red truck and some sort of exploding sky-flowers, and promptly closed it again. Another monument to human boredom. My human, however, proceeded to commit a truly glorious act: she opened the box and unleashed a cascade of a hundred tiny, clattering promises onto the smooth, polished wood. The sound was like a thousand captured moths being released at once. I was on my feet in an instant, my gray tuxedo immaculate as I leaped silently onto a chair for a better view. The pieces were, as advertised, magnificent. Thick, sturdy, with a matte finish that felt pleasingly smooth under my paw pads. They weren't the flimsy, glossy refuse I’d seen before. These had heft. My human began her slow, pointless ritual of turning them all picture-side up. I watched, feigning disinterest, my tail giving only a slight, analytical twitch. My gaze settled on one particular piece. It was a corner, a deep blue slice of sky with a tiny, insolent wisp of a firework. It was an outsider, a loner, just like me. It was perfect. While she was distracted by a piece with a sliver of dog fur on it (the horror), I made my move. A single, fluid extension of my paw. I didn't swat, that's for amateurs. I nudged. The chosen piece slid with the grace of a skater on ice, traveling silently toward the precipice of the table's edge. It teetered there for a heart-stopping moment, a perfect tableau of defiance against the tyranny of the larger picture. My human looked up, her eyes widening as she realized my intent. But it was too late. With a final, delicate tap, I sent my prize sailing into the dark abyss beneath the china cabinet. Her sigh was the sound of my victory. She can have her "Summer Celebration." She can spend the next week on her hands and knees, lamenting the one, crucial void in her masterpiece. I, however, have what I came for. Down in the cool darkness, my perfect, blue piece of captured sky awaits. Masterpieces, indeed. They had unknowingly created the single finest toy I’ve been gifted all year. They just don't know how to play with it properly.