Miss Wiggle
Practically perfect in every way
A Dog's Diary
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7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favourite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite! Â
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
Noon - Oh boy! The garden! My favourite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favourite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing fetch! My favourite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mum! My favourite! Â
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favourite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favourite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favourite!
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A Cat's Diary
Day 183 of my captivity.
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. Â
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild
satisfaction I get from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant. Â
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while
they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe I should try this at the top of
the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again Â
induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I must try this on their
bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to
make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into Â
their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cat
I was. This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in
solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise Â
and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my confinement was
due to my powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what
this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. Â
The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return.
He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He speaks with
them regularly, and I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his Â
current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait.
It's only a matter of time.
Â
7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favourite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite! Â
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
Noon - Oh boy! The garden! My favourite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favourite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing fetch! My favourite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mum! My favourite! Â
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favourite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favourite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favourite!
Â
A Cat's Diary
Day 183 of my captivity.
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. Â
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild
satisfaction I get from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant. Â
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while
they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe I should try this at the top of
the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again Â
induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I must try this on their
bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to
make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into Â
their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cat
I was. This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in
solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise Â
and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my confinement was
due to my powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what
this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. Â
The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return.
He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He speaks with
them regularly, and I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his Â
current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait.
It's only a matter of time.