Box of a different colour.

One box that I forgot to mention in my previous post is the ice box. More commonly known today as a refrigerator, this most glorious box is truly in a class of its own. It doesn't have that delicious gluey scent or the soft, rippled sides for picking at, and I certainly can't curl up inside it for a nap, and yet it is perhaps the box of all boxes. For inside this box resides................food. That's right, the all important source of feline sustenance. Food.

Not just cat food either, though it does contain a little can of wet cat food. This magical, mystical box contains "people" food of all varieties. I will openly admit that my chief favourite amongst these are the carnivorous selections. Be it frozen or defrosted, marinated or plain, raw or cooked, anything meat will catch my interest immediately.

Patience is key to a satisfying fridge related reward. The large doors on this box are far to heavy and awkward for me to open myself (though heaven knows, I've tried). Thus, I must sit and wait for a human to decide that therein lies something of interest to them. Once they have made their selection and set it down, my dearest hope is that they become distracted elsewhere leaving their (hopefully meat) selection within my fiercely concentrated sights.

If I were to guess at how often this actually happens, I would say it's a disappointingly low - once a day. More perhaps than my other feline brethren around the world are privy to, but still far less than I am most sure I deserve. Because of the infrequency with which the opportunity arrives, I must make the very best of every occasion.

The main requirement is stealth. If the humans hear a thud or even a rustle from the other room, they'll be back to yell and shove me away from my bounty. Yes, stealth is the main skill required in a successful food-retrieval mission. And because I have stealth in spades, my missions are most usually quite rewarding.

My patience and skill pay off and I snack contentedly upon meats in all their glorious forms. Why just yesterday I happened upon an ill-watched-over leg of chicken. I had it all the way to the floor and halfway to freedom before I was caught. But that's alright. There's always a next time.

A patient cat knows how best to bide their time, and can find a watchful perch in a warm and cozy place. Perhaps atop a large, white box perfectly situated for optimal surveillance.