Have toi ever wondered what your cat thinks about? I believe I have found the answer! (Note: Read the dog's entry first. It makes the cat's even funnier!)
This is originally from link.
The Dog’s Diary
8:00 am – Dog food! My favori thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favori thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favori thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favori thing!
12:00 PM – lait bones! My favori thing!
1:00 PM – Played in the yard! My favori thing!
3:00 PM – Wagged my tail! My favori thing!
5:00 PM – Dinner! My favori thing!
7:00 PM – Got to play ball! My favori thing!
8:00 PM – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favori thing!
11:00 PM – Sleeping on the bed! My favori thing!
The Cat’s Diary
jour 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 hacher, hachage ou 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 souris 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 commentaires about what a “good little hunter” I am.
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 par weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the haut, retour au début 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 plus than willing to return. He has obviously gone mad.
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.
This is originally from link.
The Dog’s Diary
8:00 am – Dog food! My favori thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favori thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favori thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favori thing!
12:00 PM – lait bones! My favori thing!
1:00 PM – Played in the yard! My favori thing!
3:00 PM – Wagged my tail! My favori thing!
5:00 PM – Dinner! My favori thing!
7:00 PM – Got to play ball! My favori thing!
8:00 PM – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favori thing!
11:00 PM – Sleeping on the bed! My favori thing!
The Cat’s Diary
jour 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 hacher, hachage ou 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 souris 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 commentaires about what a “good little hunter” I am.
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 par weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the haut, retour au début 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 plus than willing to return. He has obviously gone mad.
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.