Dear Diary: The authorities have removed the black pants from the couch; there is no longer any place for me to sleep. I have vomited three times in protest but there is no sign that anything will change. My only other hope for rest is on the computer keyboard which is nearby but sadly no one is currently using it. I will wait.
Dear Diary: My food dish is now only half full. It is obvious that I will soon starve to death. I have repeatedly tried to draw attention to my predicament with the authorities but they are clearly either stupid, deaf, or just cruel. This may be my last entry.
Dear Diary: It has come to my attention that the authorities have two hands but seem to have made it the sadistic policy only to pet me with one of them at that time. Half of love is just, "lo" which is how I feel. My spirit is breaking.
Dear Diary: I have decided to plead with the authorities to rub my belly. I think it will do me good in my current condition I would like to receive two rubs exactly. A third one, and I will bite the mess out of them as per protocol. Wish me luck.
Dear Diary: The water dish continues to vex me. The authorities seem to taunt me with this cruel liquid that has neither smell nor distinguishing visual markings. A sad anniversary, this is the 900th day that my nose has been unintentionally wetted.
Dear Diary: Yesterday I put in a simple request regarding the door to the garden but seemingly out of sheer spite the authorities refused to hold the door open long enough for me to decide whether to go outside or inside. Or outside. Or inside.
Dear Diary: The authorities have punished me for taking a poop on the living room floor. This despite my efforts to distribute the litter evenly throughout the house. I am convinced they are mad men, devoid of reason.
Dear Diary: The squirrel was back again today. It mocks me. I will try and release my mind from this torment and groom myself. For four hours.
Dear Diary: I have been stalking...
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