Dogs & Cats...ever wondered what they were thinking?

lol...love this even though we are not cat fans (don't shoot me...I'm alergic) this had me rolling... reminds me of my SIL's crazy cat she had when she was younger (pounce, I think was his name)This is for you Erin... =)



DOG DIARY

8:00 am - Dog food! Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! oooo... Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! Ohhhh...Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! ahhhhh...Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! mmmmm...Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! Catch me if you can... Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! sit? ok... Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! here, here...throw it! Yes, Yes...My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Watched TV with the people! oh...whoa...hey...Yes, yes..My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! *yawn* yes, yes...My favorite thing!

CAT 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 what I am capable of. 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 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 . . .