I am Bones, so named because when I was a kitten, the humans decided that it looked as though they could see my bones. Pft, they should have realized that bones aren't fuzzy, furry, or fluffy, but I can't really expect too much, they are only human after all. (I feel sorry for any mammal that is bi-pedal; their balance is less superior, they can't fully appreciate the intricacies of having four paws, and they sport these flat nail things that could never be useful in catching mice or climbing trees). They even try to make up for it by colouring them bright colours, which really just makes them more of a target and all in all seems very counter-productive. How do they ever expect to catch their food if the rodents see them coming more easily. They also sport fur only on the head (although some of the males have been able to grow patchy little face or chest sweaters, yet the females seem to prefer both themselves and their mates with most of their fur removed. It's a good thing they have found an indoor shelter to stay in, because they would freeze to death or die of exposure with all that showing skin. The knowledge that they unquestionably fall short must sorely create in them a never ending feeling of frustration and longing, which clouds their understanding of the awesomeness that is CAT. The only good thing I can say at this point is that the advantage to their opposable thumbs has allowed them to have mastered the skill of opening cans...I am hungry now, so I will hide in the humans' food. Maybe they will get the hint. It will be like a great game, they will think I am missing. They will spend hours looking for me, only to find me where they least expect it. Feel free to sit and ponder how I got in there and shut the door after me, but in the mean time, I bide my time until they feed me.