The human male came home the other day with a pair of kitchen shears. Now, if it were up to me, I’d just use a dagger, because there’s nothing I can’t do with a knife. But he wanted them for cutting up poultry or opening stubborn boxes. The human female allowed as how they’d be useful for snipping herbs or sticky dry fruit into itty bitty pieces.
They looked sturdy enough, all heavy blades and business-like black handles. Even had grippery teeth between the handles for wrenching open bottles and jars and suchlike. Grrr! Fierce!
Nothing. I repeat, NOTHING…