Excerpts from a Dog's Diary
8:00 a.m. - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 a.m. - Car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 a.m. - Walk in park! My favorite thing!
10:30 a.m. - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 p.m. - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 p.m. - Played in yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 p.m. - Wagged tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 p.m. - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 p.m. - Played ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 p.m. - Watched TV with family! My favorite thing!
11:00 p.m. - Sleeping on bed! My favorite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to haunt 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 it's 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. Bastards!
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.
Today 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 to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the captors 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. . .
8:00 a.m. - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 a.m. - Car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 a.m. - Walk in park! My favorite thing!
10:30 a.m. - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 p.m. - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 p.m. - Played in yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 p.m. - Wagged tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 p.m. - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 p.m. - Played ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 p.m. - Watched TV with family! My favorite thing!
11:00 p.m. - Sleeping on bed! My favorite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to haunt 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 it's 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. Bastards!
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.
Today 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 to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the captors 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. . .
