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A Dog's Diary vs A Cat's Diary

Monday, 07.02.2012, 09:15pm (GMT-5)

dog v catCats and dogs both are our favorite pets, but they are so different, especially the way they see us human, it's also totally visible when you read their diary, a dog's diary vs a cat's diary.

Let us start reading a dog's diary first, shall we?
a 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!

And now, let us read a cat's diary, not for the faint of heart though;
mean kitty 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 mentally deficient. 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,       however, arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is       safe. For now…


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