Excerpts from the diary of a dog:
8:00 a.m. Oh boy, dog Makanan – my favorite.
9:30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride – my favorite.
9:40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk – my favorite.
10:30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride – my favorite.
11:30 a.m. Oh boy, lebih dog Makanan – my favorite.
12:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids – my favorite.
1:00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard – my favorite.
4:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again – my favorite.
5:00 p.m. Oh boy, dog Makanan again – my favorite.
5:30 p.m. Oh boy, Mom – my favorite.
6:00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball – my favorite.
8:30 p.m. Oh boy, sleeping in my master’s katil – my favorite.
Excerpts from the diary of a cat:
hari 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while I’m forced to eat dry cereal. I’m sustained sejak the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning sejak weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the bahagian, atas of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their kegemaran chair. Must try this on their bed. To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a tetikus and deposited the headless body on their dapur floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a “strong little kitty.” Hmm – not working according to plan. During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of allergies. Must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems naively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half-wit. The bird speaks with the humans regularly. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait. It is only a matter of time...
((Adapted from Rick Archley, “When We All Get to Heaven” (sermon, Richland Hills Church of Christ, North Richland Hills, TX, May 25, 2005). Original sumber unknown.)
8:00 a.m. Oh boy, dog Makanan – my favorite.
9:30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride – my favorite.
9:40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk – my favorite.
10:30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride – my favorite.
11:30 a.m. Oh boy, lebih dog Makanan – my favorite.
12:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids – my favorite.
1:00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard – my favorite.
4:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again – my favorite.
5:00 p.m. Oh boy, dog Makanan again – my favorite.
5:30 p.m. Oh boy, Mom – my favorite.
6:00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball – my favorite.
8:30 p.m. Oh boy, sleeping in my master’s katil – my favorite.
Excerpts from the diary of a cat:
hari 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while I’m forced to eat dry cereal. I’m sustained sejak the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning sejak weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the bahagian, atas of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their kegemaran chair. Must try this on their bed. To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a tetikus and deposited the headless body on their dapur floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a “strong little kitty.” Hmm – not working according to plan. During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of allergies. Must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems naively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half-wit. The bird speaks with the humans regularly. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait. It is only a matter of time...
((Adapted from Rick Archley, “When We All Get to Heaven” (sermon, Richland Hills Church of Christ, North Richland Hills, TX, May 25, 2005). Original sumber unknown.)