Cat and dog diaries

This reminds me more than a little of one of my dearly departed cats, the Empress-Queen-of-the-Universe-and-all-Should-Bow-Down-to-my-Obvious-Superiority, Fee. She was not well regarded by anyone in the fam but me, and drove my mother and T pretty nuts. But it was hard not to love a cat who would follow me to school every day and greet my return by running across our large yard, and then dropping down at my feet  to do a woozy roll on her back for me. Every day.

 8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
 9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
 9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. 


There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage

This morning I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. -For now…Cat

So accurate. My dog Buddy was one easy to please dog. Never an attitude. I knew exactly how he felt about me. I do miss him. I love my cats, all of them, dearly as well, but they are different. Finn moves for nothing. Nothing. Not even the roar of an approaching vacuum cleaner. Even the kiddo knows to clear the room once the Dyson is going! I half seriously believe he’d somehow take me to court should so much as a hair on his head were harmed by the yellow monster however slightly, however accidently.

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March 2008
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