From a Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
From a 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 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... Will keep you posted.
8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
From a 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 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... Will keep you posted.
*********************
Small Dog has indeed requested a right to reply, so I have noted her comments verbatim.
"helow. i hav konsidrd mearly ignoaring this, butt on reflekshun i hav deesidid to resspond. The mane thing i objeckt two is the implickashun thatt dogs ar wun dimenshonal, shaloh kreetchures. thatt is a fowl kalumni witsch i refewt uterli.
olso, catz ar knot all that.
i wil admitt i hav nevr aktewli mett a cat fais two fais. if i evr sea wun inn mi gardn (thay yoosed to kum inn to wee and poo inn mi mumz beatch gardn of stoanz. Disgusten) i hav two chais it sew the moast i evr sea is there bum disapieren ovr the fens.
Howevir, i do knott think thay ar veri intelegent.
Or highjeanick. Thai yews there porrs to wosh there faises butt thay yews ther tungs to wosh there bits. Ewwww.
Olso thai kil small kreetchures jusst for funn, espeshulli mise and burdz.
Okai, so i mite ockashunali chais a skwirl or pijon, butt i nevr catsch them and eaven if i didd, I doant think i wood kil them.
eksept for rats. i am a ratten terrior and that is mi job. i do knott think a cat kood kil a rat eniwai becos rats ar veri danjerus and kuning so reeli onli ratten terriors ar upp to it.
Allsew, catz smel funi. Funi strainj, knot funi hillarius. mi mum is alerjick two catz witsh is kwite normall. Yorkshire Terriors ar highpoalurjenick as eni fule knos.
Thank yoo for this opertewniti two poot the rekord strate. i am kwite tyred now so i am goen to hav a napp. wun of mi favurit things.
yores afekshunatli
Small Dog
xxx
9 comments:
Very interesting comments from the pets Sandra, it helps you being able to understand their language.
Dave
Thanks Dave....
Yes it's lucky I'm fluent in Yorkshire Terrior.
Sx
Deer Smorl dog,
I am wiv yoo on the katt frunt....dey r od.
Thay r alsew stoopid.
Thej now thut I kan katsh thum but they insisst on kuming in the gardin evun so. Wee hav a lectrik detrunt. Thej r suposzed to heer thiz an stey awey boot thay steel kum in. How sillee iz that? den dare is MEEE...an thay Steel down't lurn. STOOPID.
Dogz r bestist!
Lurve DDxx
Freddie, my littlest cat, is wondering what I am tittering at - as I read your blog Sandra!! Hahaha...Celia
DD.....
i new yoo wude agree with me. wee ar off wun mined.
SD
xxx
Celia...
Probaby best you don't mention it to Freddie
Sx
Very funny.....your spell checker must have gone into meltdown!
Martin....
I didn't even consider using spell check.
Goodness knows what non-English speakers make of it....
Sx
My cat read this post and was in total agreement with a cat's life!
He can't understand dog talk..nor can I for that matter so you have one amazing talent there! lol
Woof, woof!
Michelle xx
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