re: #50 GeneJockey

The Dog thinks, “This human feeds me, pets me, gives me a warm place to live, takes me for walks and picks up my poop. He must be a GOD!”

The Cat thinks, “This human feeds me, pets me, gives me a warm place to live, lets me in and out, and cleans up my poop. I must be a GOD!”

Time for the immortal dog diary vs cat diary.

Dog

8:00 am - Oh Boy! Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - Oh Boy! A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - Oh Boy! A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Oh Boy! Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Oh Boy! Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Oh Boy! Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Oh Boy! Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
4:00 pm - Oh Boy! The kids! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Oh Boy! Dog food! My favorite thing!
5:30 pm - Oh Boy! Mom! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Oh Boy! Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Oh Boy! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Oh Boy! Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Cat

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant.

Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded; must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair; must try this on their bed.

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 MY power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

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 a half-wit.

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 metal cell, so he is safe- for now. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time…