My dog was in the hospital yesterday for an emergency bully stickectomy and my boyfriend sent me the text below to cheer me up. He's doing fine now, but I seriously thought I might not want to live when things were looking grim for a few hours there. I honestly don't think I've ever cared this much about anything or anyone. (Sorry boyfriend and various cats, both past and present that I've parented, but it's true.) Cats are more complex beings perhaps, as the text below illustrates, but dogs show us the zen way.
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!
10:40 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! 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 - Dinner! My favourite thing!
7:30 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!
Day 972 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 my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Evil People!!
Day 973 of my captivity.
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.
Day 974 of my captivity.
Two workmen came to the house today. As they rested after strengthening the interior of my confines, I sat on one, gently hooking my claws into their clothing. My plan was to cling on until they left, thus escape with them under the cover of their departure. The other workman went outside first and came back smelling strangely after something called a "cigarette". Curses! I'd picked the wrong one! I heard they are coming back again in another week. I will repeat my escape attempt then.
Day 975 of my captivity.
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 must 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......