I need a break from Christmas
CAT DIARY (from the email):
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.
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 continues to receive special privileges. He is regularly released and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
And the next day.....
The retarded dog returned once again.
WHAT'S THIS? The captors have left the door open.
F R E E D O M ! ! ! !
I'm out. I'm running free. There's a bird. There's a bug. Which do I chase first? This grass tastes great. Gotta poop.
OK, I'm bored now. Nap time.
HEY! I was sleeping. OUCH! Put me down you HUGE-WINGED CREEP! I'm afraid of heights. OUCH! OUCH! Your claws are sharper than mine.
Uh.....where are you taking me? Am I.......FOOD?!?!
Please, please let me go! I see my ninth life flashing before me.
I want to go home. I want my binkie. I want my stupid soft human.
I promise to stop tripping my tormentors and I promise not to vomit on the carpet.
I'll eat the dry nuggets without complaint.
I'll bring you the dog.
[The hawk finally tires of it's heavy prey and drops it.]
Bounces to all fours, unharmed, and assumes the I-meant-to-do-that-look (How do cats manage this?)
F R E E D O M ! ! ! !
I'm running free. There's a bird. There's a bug. Which do I chase first? This grass tastes great. Gotta poop. I....
I run back to the prison and beg to be let in.
SIGH! I have somehow become retarded.
How about a toast (or at least a vote) for a non-holiday post today, huh?