Miss Kitty Hatches a Plot

Haven't we all felt the desire to crawl around inside a child's dollhouse? I know I have! Tiny stairs beckon! After I'd produced children of my own and thus achieved legitimate access to a dollhouse, I indulged in a life-long fantasy. However, upon overhearing my kids' feeble storylines, and sooo tame, cutesy characterizations, I felt I had to control the narrative. At the time, this was not appreciated. Still, I fail to see how I can be faulted for imposing upon tender growing minds what I know to be the real truth behind those waxy smiles. The real truth is that savagery shall not bow down to propriety and refinement shall not overcome a sweet tooth. These confounding emotions share equal measure in the bosoms of even the gentlest of creatures, and I, having intimate access to the works of Miss Jane Austen and Miss Beatrix Potter, meant to unmask it.

Old age crept up on me. The gradual losing of senses and faculties have not dimmed my belief that even the simplest plastic toys, inhabited by a strong will, perfect manners, and a desire for hot pastries are the best instructors of wayward children. As evidence of my conviction, you, Dear Reader, must know that one of my children is the Butler, and the other is the Bear. Judge for yourselves.