Friday, April 20, 2012

Dad blogs for cats: the dog diary vs cat diary continued

This is a completely random ‘bonus post’ for y’all.

My dad recently fell in love with this internet meme:

In case you can't read that, here's the original source.

Before I knew it, Dad was sending me additions that he’d written himself. I’ve been getting giggly emails from him with new cat diary entries that he’s written, which is surprising and odd on its own, but factor in that he’s such a dog fanatic...well, I was really surprised. The funny thing is, his entries are just as funny as the first; apparently, this joke isn’t getting old for me (nor for him) anytime soon.

In case you need a chuckle today, here ya go: two cat diary entries by my dad Bill.

Day 997
source: DeviantArt
Last night I failed in my attempt to assassinate the male human prison guard. I had waited until they slept and made my move. Unfortunately the human noticed me “sleeping on his face”. He woke up choking on a hairball. Too bad the ball was not large enough to finish the job. The next day I was tortured for my transgression with THE RAKE OF DEATH. The rake of death scenario usually begins with their war cry. The house echoes with the maniacal words “Here, kitty kitty…” I’m off in a flash! I use the sofas and chairs as launch points, digging my claws in for traction while spitting and cursing at the vile wretches. Just when I thought I had escaped this time, I hit the kitchen floor, slid across the tiles, smashed into the gruel and water bowls. Now I am wet, sore, and covered in pellet gruel! The dog is laughing. (Note to self: kill the dog.)

However, there is a cat god. The human hit the water/gruel slurry on the fly and slid into the bird prison stand. It falls over, spreading bird litter and poop into said slurry. The human lands face first in the carnage. I smiled, but my victory was short-lived. The human had me by my foot! Now the raking began. I am wet, exhausted, and covered in gruel so I reluctantly surrendered to the brushing.  The only redeeming part of the day is the dog now must have a bath (he was rolling in the gruel). I will watch this with great pleasure, wait until the human sleeps, and attempt to finish the job. There is always hope.

Source: Flickr
Day 1007
The dog must die. Being the magnanimous creature I am, have come to accept that the dog needs to exist if for no other reason than to keep the prison guards away from me. However the dog went too far today when it ate my gruel!  I know that I have said that the desiccated pellets given to me as rations are inedible; that’s not the point, people! It is my inedible gruel! No floppy eared, bandy legged, mentally deficient meat sack is going to have anything of mine. Unless, of course, I have accidentally peed on it…then it’s all his.

Actually, the gruel debacle may not be the worst thing that happened today. This afternoon I was having one of my deep meditative phases (a ‘catnap’, they call it prosaically) and I was dreaming about being wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket. It was like my mind had found a way to escape the gulag when suddenly the blanket began to snore. I woke up to find myself pressed up against the stupid mutt and his legs were around me!. To top it all off I think the prison guards put the photo on my facebook page. I feel so dirty.