Living in a household with three dogs and nine cats, I can attest to the accuracy of the following (h/t Tom B.):
THE DOG’S DIARY:
7 am- Oh boy! A walk! My favorite!
8 am- Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 am- Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
Noon- Oh boy! The yard! My favorite!
2 PM- Oh boy! A car ride! My favorite!
3 PM- Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
4 PM- Oh boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
6 PM- Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My favorite!
7 PM- Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favorite!
8 PM- Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 PM- Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favorite!
11 PM- Oh boy! Sleeping in my people’s bed! My favorite!
THE CAT’S DIARY:
Day 183 of my captivity…
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from clawing the Furniture.
Tomorrow I may eat another house plant.
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving string around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded.
Maybe I should try this at the top of the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair - must try this on their bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts.
They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cat I was.
This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event.
However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my confinement was due to my powers of inducing something called “allergies."
Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches.
The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and I am certain he reports my every move.
Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured.
But I can wait.
It’s only a matter of time…
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