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Excerpts 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!

Excerpts from a Cat’s Daily 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…


Snerk… — 16 Comments

    • The first is true. For a while. Unless he gets really hungry.

      A local reclusive guy died at home and this was discovered a month later. Not sure what they did with his pet Rottie. (We’re in the country, and apparently either nobody heard the dog or something. I really didn’t want the full details.)

  1. A German Shepherd, Doberman and a Cat have died.

    All three are faced with God who wants to know what they believe in.
    The German Shepherd Says: “I believe in discipline, training and loyalty to my master.”

    “Good,” says God, “then sit down on my right side.”
    “Doberman, what do you believe in?” Asks God.
    The Doberman Answers: “I believe in the love, care and protection of my master.”

    “Aha,” said God, “you may sit to my left.” Then he looks at the cat and asks: “And what do you believe in?”
    The cat then answers: “I believe you’re sitting in my seat.”

    • This is why cats and I do NOT get along.
      I give them the respect they deserve.
      Which is FAR LESS than that they believe they deserve!

  2. Used to have a bumper sticker on my truck that said;

    I like cats scattered, smothered, covered and chunked.

    I personally don’t have anything against cats, but my wife hates them. Evidently when she was a kid, they had a lot of cats and the cats were treated better than the kids.

    • Which is quite believable, as the cats are cleaner, quieter, and generally better company than the kids will ever be.

      Cheaper to keep, too.

  3. I’ve seen this one before. It’s still funny, and still true.

    That avian’s days are numbered, and the devil keeps the calendar.

  4. Heh. Blue got a belly rub, a walk and several treats (dry, artificially flavored “beef” biscuits in the shape of a bone). He thought all of them the BEST thing. Every time.

  5. Cats are poetry in motion. Dogs are gibberish in high gear.
    (from a button I bought at an SF convention many moons ago)

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