Day 1,460 of my captivity. Dear Diary, Today, I was drugged (with catnip), imprisoned in a crate and taken to the vet. It was humiliating. I cuddled up with the vet tech to make my hooman feel badly for her treatment of me. Shes only 20, so perhaps there is hope. Tonight, in a weak moment, I cried for my food at the foot of the stairs. The male hooman was working and the female hooman was, shall we say, The Slug of Hawthorne. Something about a painful epidural. Anyway, one of the dogs (the less bright of the two, if you can even assign intelligence to such a species), saw me crying and motioned to the other dog, as if to say I think hes on to something!. The sister dog just shook her head in dismay. At that point, I assumed my rightful position upon the couch, laying with my paws folded regally under my chin, awaiting my knight in shining armor from upstairs to carry my food dish to the plate. Damn the lack of opposable thumbs!! And then, to my wondrous surprise, the Slug of Hawthorne awoke and fed all the beasts in the house. Life is good. Until tomorrow! Signed, The Cat
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 21:56:38 +0000
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