Scribblings from a dog and a cat

My bezzy pal sent me this. LOL! I think Piglet and Piss-Piss may have been publishing their writings…

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.

3 Responses to Scribblings from a dog and a cat

  1. C.A. Nari says:

    The soi-disant Running Dog and Paper Tiger are manifest un-reconstructed stooges of the opportunistic Southport Collective.

    Today I commenced their re-education with a modest seven-hour exposition concerning the Five-Year Cuttlefish Plan, in conjunction with the proposed Seven-Year Hemp-Seed Directive.

    Though a clear member of the proleteriat, the Running Dog exhibits unfortunate bourgouis leanings. The neo-constructivist tail wags the dog. The Paper Tiger has been confined to indefinite internal exile, as befits the disgraced self-styled intellectual class.

    I have taken steps to commandeer the neo-imperialist Twitter network. Let the risen workers Tweet!

    Solidarity with the Internationalist Feather Brigade!

    Commandante C.A.Nari

  2. Mango Terrier says:

    Canarys? Coalmines? I rest my paw …

  3. Theo says:

    Great !

    Please, Prison-Director Shirl, give my regards to the inmates of alCATraz.

    (and a paw from Atilla)

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