>DOG DIARY
>
> 8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
> 9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
> 9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
> 10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
> 12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
> 1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
> 5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
> 7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
> 8:00 pm - Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
> 11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
>
>
>CAT 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 . .
>
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There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.
lol!
Allow me to introduce to you my cat Bozo. He's 18.5 and going senile. He's forgotten that he doesn't get his canned "glop in gravy" until we get up at 6am. So when he gets hungry at 4am, he does a little feed me dance. Jumps on the bed, meows in my face. Goes to the nightstand, meows in my face. Jumps back to the floor in his 14 pound glory, on the wood laminate, thump-thump.
Repeat as necessary until the blond human gives in or the dark human shuts me in the cold lonely room with my icky box in it. Then once I've eaten my yummies, go back to the bedroom and look pathetic until my blonde human finishes her cereal and lets me have the bit of milk that is left.
Bozo's feed me dance used to really wake me up until I learned to put my glasses in the drawer of my night stand. (I'm so blind that if i lose my glasses I won't be able to find them.)
During the night, sleep in the bed, foot or middle, in such a way that my humans have to do contortions to not kick me.
Drop my evening "stinker" in my sand box just as they are making their dinner.
Barf hairballs at 2am as required on the foot of the bed as necessary.
As his blonde human I've got to love it or I would go nuts.
My husband is my best friend.
In forgiving others, we are not exonerating them. They may not deserve exoneration. Rather, in forgiving others we are giving up our anger over the fact that what happened is not what "should" have happened or that our life is not the way it "should" have been.
my nipper is oveer 6 kilosnot sure what that is pounds and shes 15 she does more of a head nudging thing to wake me up and is quite found of giving me friendly nips(bites) hence the nipper
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.
Tizzy (short for Tyrany) - Black/tan mongrel - Insane, possibly regular user of amphetamines or other stimulants.
Diesel - Ginger mongrel - Offspring of Tizzy - Unbelievably stupid and clumsy, but worships me therefore adorable.
Dante - Black/white rat - About 8 inches long (not including tail) and fat. Lurks near top of cage, probably plotting to take over the world, regularly terrorizes the dogs.
Mookie (no pic) - Grey/white rat - Hyperactive, insane, has no idea what where or why he is... he just is. Very much like Pinky from Pinky and The Brain cartoons.
So there you have it... my family!
If the only true wisdom lies in knowing that you know nothing, then I must be a f***ing genius
