Excerpts 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!



Excerpts 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.........

Barry I like this one, way cool