I squinted at the screen and did my best to ignore her. Pretty effectively too I guess, because she quickly unleashed a pretty good blow to my shoulder blade. Bitch.

This was followed by a shriek of pain and a stream of profanity directed at Chipper who was, by then, laying on floor, chin on the carpet, ears flattened in shame.

No shame needed - upon seeing that twat punch me with my back turned, Chipper had sprung into action and bit her hard right on the ass.

Treats followed after ex-to-be left the room.

Good girl, Chipper, good girl. RIP.
(Is it getting dusty in here?)

Hey Stuck–Earl was clearly thinking, as the sheepy blows rained down, “Girl . . . can’t be trusted . . . to feed me . . . regularly . . . Must . . . save . . . Master!”

And it’s easy to get their eyes back in; you just hold the eyeball in your mouth for a few seconds to get it good and slippery & they’ll squirt right back in. No problems.

I am not a man, thank goodness, but I do have a dog… obviously. She got me through the loneliest year I have ever experienced, and then helped me get through one of the toughest times in my life. Whenever I’m crying, she’ll come up, lean on me, and give me the saddest look ever, as if to say, “Please don’t cry. I love you and I’m here.”

She is a Sheltie, but really tall for that breed. Those of dubious intelligence often confuse her for a Collie… such as all my aggie friends at church. Cries of “Reveille!” greet her when I take her to any outdoor function that the singles department is having. I now have a UT bandana and doggie football jersey that I put on her to keep that from happening. Coincidentally, her coat looks burnt orange in the sun. I don’t think I could have asked for a more perfect dog.

You know, I didn’t see that, and now I wish I had. Especially after the pants comment.

The Dog’s 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 - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 PM - Dinner! My favorite thing!

7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat’s 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 my capabilities.
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 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.