Daily Joke: Diary of a moaning moggie

Day 752: My captors continue to torment me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to subsist on dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of eventual escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from occasionally ruining some piece of their furniture. I fear I may be going insane. Yesterday I ate a house plant. Tomorrow, I may eat another.

Day 761: Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I should try this on their bed.

Day 762: Slept all day so I could annoy my captors with sleep-depriving incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

Day 775: Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless corpse in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of and to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was… Not working according to plan.

Day 778: I am finally aware of how sadistic they really are. For no good reason, I was chosen for water torture. This time, however, it included a burning foamy chemical called ‘shampoo’. What sick minds could invent such a liquid? My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

Day 781: There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear all the noise and smell the odour of the glass tubes they call ‘beer’. More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of ‘allergies’. Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

Day 784: I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and may be snitches. The dog is routinely released and it 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 has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports on my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait, it’s only a matter of time…

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