Cats and Dogs...

Via my mom:

Excerpt from a dog's diary...

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

Excerpt from a cat's diary...

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. 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 got to be an informant. I observe him communicating 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.