5:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat's Diary:

Day 6, 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 . . . . .