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 thi ng!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on my bed on the floor! My favorite thing!
THE CAT’S DIARY:
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects and some sort of powerful mind-altering drug that they have securely place into a small clothed thing they refer to as a “toy.” But I am strong and will resist to the bitter end if necessary, even though its deadly aroma truly drives me mad. The captors also 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 they feed me 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 a hair ball on their precious white living room carpet. Today, I also decapitated a mouse and dropped its he adless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear in their hearts since it clearly demonstrates my superior capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I was.
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 untimely confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage when I finally break out of this 2-legged run prison.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around her feet as she tried to walk by. I must try this again tomorrow, but this time at the top of the stairs. If that fails again, I will be forced to try another measure of attack by curling up around her breathing holes when she lays down on her comfortable sleeping platform at darkness. My success a few moons ago was unfortunately cut short due to my captor rising suddenly due to the dog voicing his concerns over a fellow feline who roams freely outside the prison walls and digs in our trash containers. I must find a way to silence the dog during the next darkness time.
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 communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move to them. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell so he is safe, but only for now.