Captain Gwennie’s Log:
Star Date 1-2-3-4-5-10-9-8-7-6….Point-3
It has been years, weeks, hours, months, days and minutes since I last had contact with human life. The basement is still missing, only 3 kibbles remain in my dish, and Little Missy still smells worse than my poop.
She’s obviously unconcerned about our survival as she spends her time sunbathing in the windows. I miss Momma. I miss my puff balls. I miss food. Will I ever see any of them again?
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3 Hours Later
I awoke from a dehydrated and nutritionally deprived state due to starvation. A jingling sound accompanied by voices came from the other side of the front door. Then the door slowly creaked open. That’s when I saw them: Boy-Dadda returned with Momma and the Little Thing.
Boy-Dadda came inside first carrying a couple of suitcases. Momma and the Little Thing – who was complaining – entered next.
I ran right up to Boy-Dadda. “You’re in so much trouble! FOOD! DISH! NOW!”
“Hi Gwennie,” he responded brushing past me like I was insignificant. That was hurtful. Now I know how Little Missy feels.
Momma was kneeling on the floor next to the door, getting the Little Thing out of his carrier.
“Momma!” I yelled. “You’re bad! NAUGHTY! HORRIBLE! YOU! FOOD! DISH! NOW!”
“Hi fluffly baby,” she cooed. “Momma missed her fluffywufflekins.”
“Don’t you dare try to sweet talk me, WOMAN!” I responded.
Momma placed the Little Thing on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “FOOD! DISH! NOW!”
Momma ignored me and unfastened the Little Thing’s diaper.
“Really? Really?” I demanded. “Are you afraid he’s going to die of diaper rash in the TWO seconds it would take you to put FOOD IN MY DISH????”
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3.2 Seconds Later
Boy-Dadda put food in my dish. Food coma here I come.
