Diary of a Dog and a Cat

Exploring how our state effects our perceptions, I read the the Diary of a Dog and a Cat.   Pretty funny, I must say.

The Dog’s Diary The Cat’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 – Milk bones! 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 – Dinner! 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!

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 my  capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments  about what a “good little hunter” I am. B@*****s!

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 must be an  informant. I observe him communicate 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.....