hey there

congrats to everyone that raced this weekend

and thought I’d celebrate my first little v pathetic ride with a joke I wa sent from the Lady who was to be my Lake Placid homestay mama

It kinda on life perception-

“Excerpts from a Dog’s Diary”8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

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!

10:30am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00pm - Lunch! 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 - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the peopleon the furniture! My favorite thing!

11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

“Excerpts from a 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 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 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 . . .