If your dog kept a diary, here is what we think he would write in it.
8:00 am – OMG! Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – OMG! I’m going for a car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – OMG! Are we going to the park? My favorite thing!
10:30 am – OMG! Belly rubs? My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – OMG! Biscuits? My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – OMG! Are we going to play in the yard? My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – I’m just going to wag my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – OMG! Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – OMG! Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – OMG! Watched TV with my humans! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – OMG! Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Here is the difference between dog and cat…
The Cat’s Diary
My captors continue to tease me with weird little dangling objects. They eat fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed some sort of hash and gross, dry nuggets. Despite making my contempt for those rations perfectly clear, I have to eat something in order to keep up my strength.
My dreams of escape are the only thing that keeps me going. I once again vomit on the carpet in my never-ending attempt to disgust them. I brought them a gift, a decapitated mouse that I dropped at their feet. I was hoping this would strike fear into their hearts, however, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. Bastards!
There was an assembly of their accomplices tonight at which point I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. I could hear the noises and smell the food and overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I need to learn what this means and use it to my advantage.
Today I tried once again to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I think I will try this again tomorrow at the top of the stairs.
I am completely convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dumb dog is always getting special privileges. He is always released and is more than willing to return. He is either succumbing to Stockholm syndrome or is just a really stupid animal. The bird I’m convinced, is an informant. I see him communicate with the guards on a regular basis. I know now that he reports on my every move. He’s safe for now since my captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell.
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