As a cat owner, my daughter thought I
would appreciate this humorous take on
a cat's attitude. She has one, and I have three...
and this is probably what they
are thinking, at least some of the time!
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......!
