Kitty say what?

Materials and the sequence of the job sit together on this page.

I just got this solid email from my dad. I think that I must share it. I am changing it ( and adding pictures of our pets) to reflect our family a little bit, but otherwise it is very fitting.

    Excerpt’s from Buddy’s Journal     8:00 am – Dry Cat food! My go-to thing! 9:30 am – A drink from the bathroom faucet! My go-to thing! 9:40 am – A nap on Mommy and Daddy’s bed! My go-to thing! 10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My go-to thing! 12:00 pm – Nap Again! My go-to thing! 1:00 pm – Chased kitty! My go-to thing! 3:00 pm – Chased my tail! My go-to thing! 5:00 pm – Nap Again fabulous! My go-to thing! 7:00 pm – Dinner, dry cat food! My go-to thing! 8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My go-to thing! 11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My go-to thing!        

Excerpt’s from Kitty’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 vomited 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. Jerks.

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.

  My so called brother Bu-D doesn’t seem to get my drift. Even hissing and spitting right in his face doesn’t dissuade him.   The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously not all there.

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………