Cats vs. Dogs

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary

• 8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
• 9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
• 9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
• 10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
• 12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
• 1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
• 3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
• 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 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 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 . . .

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