One would expect that after spending three years together and sharing so many adventures, his own mother would learn a thing or two about him? Well, maybe Mom did learn a couple of things after all, but I guess she is just not smart enough to understand me completely.
What? You shake your heads in disagreement? You think she knows each and every hair in my coat and all of my face expressions?
Maybe. Not too much brain needed for that. But she still can’t figure out where I hide balls from her. Balls are my favorite toys, maybe even most favorite of all. And I have several of them on my paws all the time. Mom gives them to me to play 2-3 at a time. And we play with them for a while, then I hide them: under the sofa, under the wardrobe, under the fridge, behind the toilet, between the detergent and the packet of Pixie’s litter…
Mom figured out the most used places, of course, but sometimes I like to watch her look for a ball for days. I hide it and then giggle following her around the apartment while she is checking every dark corner. When I get bored of this game, I would bring the ball to Mom myself and put it right before her, so she would have no doubts that I knew where it was all this time.
Do you agree now that I am the mastermind in our family?