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This was posted in the forum of a game I used to play. With our discussions of pets, I thought you guys might enjoy it. EXCERPTS FROM A DOG'S DAILY DIARY: 8:00 a.m. Oh, boy! Dog food! My favorite! 9:30 a.m. Wow! A car ride! This is a blast! 9:40 a.m. A walk in the park! Ate some crap...Delicious! 10:30 a.m. Getting rubbed and petted! I' m in love! 12:00 p.m. Lunch! Yummy! 1:00 p.m. Playing in the yard! I just love it! 3:00 p.m. Staring adoringly at my masters...they're the best! I'll wag my tail in joy. 4:00 p.m. Hooray! The kids are home! I'm bouncing off the walls! 5:00 p.m. Milk bones! Great! 7:00 p.m. Get to play ball! This is too good to be true! 8:00 p.m. Wow! Watching TV with my master! Heavenly! 11:00 p.m. Sleeping at the bottom of my master's bed! Life is soooooooo great! EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DAILY DIARY: Day 683 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 vomited on the floor. 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. The audacity!! 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 noise 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. 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 he seems more than willing to return! 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. The captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe--for now. But I can wait. For it is only a matter of time Post edited by: DreamChaser, at: 05/09/2008 17:20 |
Bipolar Support Forums
That is so true