joedonh

A Day in the Life of a Cat and Dog

The 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 - Milk bones! 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 - Dinner! 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!
The 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 my capabilities. 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 must 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.

I’m re-blogging because this is a falsity. I have a dog that the intention of the original content doesn’t cover, no matter how cute the intention. I have a situation on my hands and I have to vent dammit!

My “Catdog” (pronounced “Cat-og”), as I will now refer to her as, shares the best and worst of both worlds. Catdog has a lot of “favorite things”, but she also attempts to do such things as trip me at the top of the stairs. She finds great pleasure in eating, digesting, and spitting up in every possible location the contents of every worldly possession I own. Given the opportunity, this would include mice carcasses; however, in lieu of such opportunity, she finds solace in showing me what lovely work she has done on the couch, the coffee table, floor mats - there is no amnesty really.

She also apparently feels a need for escape, and has on more than one occasion attempted to thwart me by pretending to need to pee behind the garage, only to make me run out in the morning in my underwear and find her galavanting in the neighbor’s far superior grass (her opinion, not mine). While a cat my find solace in the solitary endeavor of urinating in the scented gravel provided by it’s owners, Catdog is content to do her “business” wherever seems fit - Catdog’s “business” isn’t nice and small and doesn’t smell plesant, no matter the ammount of pine fresh solvent it is placed upon.

Despite the numerous shortcomings of Catdog, we have kept her on as a prisoner and have learned to deal with her shortcomings. She still pisses us off, and we let her know by letting her sleep in our bed. That’ll learn her!

Picture of Catdog yearning for freedom: