Plastic Spy Tube Delivers Intel on Squirrels and New Dogs

It arrived in a box that was, I admit, of superior quality for sitting upon. The object that emerged, however, was an insult. A cheap, plastic tube perched precariously on three legs that looked as if they'd collapse under the weight of a stern glance. My human assembled it with the fumbling incompetence I've come to expect, pointing it out the large window into the deepening twilight. I watched from the arm of the sofa, tail twitching in mild irritation, as he fiddled with the knobs. "Let's see the stars, Pete," he murmured, as if I cared for distant balls of gas when there was a perfectly good, and much closer, ball of yarn under the credenza. He peered into the eyepiece for a long time, making small, satisfied noises. I was about to dismiss the entire affair and begin my nightly grooming ritual when he shifted the telescope, aiming it not at the sky, but down the street. He was silent for a moment, then whispered, "Huh. Looks like the Wilsons got a new dog. A little terrier thing." My ears swiveled. A new dog? A *small* dog? This was intelligence of the highest order. The Oracle of the Window had spoken. I leaped from the sofa and spent the next hour patrolling the front door, leaving my scent as a clear and present warning to any yapping newcomers. The telescope was no longer a toy; it was a strategic reconnaissance tool. The next evening, my human aimed the device at the old oak tree in the backyard. "Whoa, there's a whole family of squirrels in that knot-hole," he announced to the empty room. Squirrels. My sworn enemies. The chittering fiends who taunt me from the other side of the glass. A whole family, he said? I immediately abandoned my post by the heat vent and took up a new station on the windowsill, my eyes narrowed, my mind racing with battle plans and ambush points. The flimsy plastic tube had provided me with the location of an enemy stronghold. I have no intention of ever looking *through* this "telescope." Its lens is far too small for a creature of my sophistication, and its purpose is not for my eyes. My human, in his simple way, can operate it for me. He will be my spotter, my intelligence officer, unknowingly feeding me vital information about threats and opportunities in my kingdom. This "Little World" telescope has not made my world smaller; it has given me the tactical advantage. It is not a toy to be batted or chewed. It is a weapon, and it is most certainly worthy.