My Mistress is so particular. Every time she goes to do anything on the kitchen counter she shoos me off. I only want to help.
I know that I could make an apple pie as good as her if only she would let me help. You'd be surprised at how nicely I could pat out that ball of dough with my four feet.
Instead, despite my intelligence, I am reduced to sitting on a stool and watching her.
This is my pouty, poor-kitty look, which I'm showing my Mistress to see if she will have a change of heart.
I won't touch your precious jars- promise!