A. Marie Silver

A. Marie Silver

Phoning PETA

Dear Diary,

Everything has been awful! First, Momma disappeared for almost two days. She took the Daikini child with her which was nice but I keep telling her, “If you’re going to take the Daikini child away, you have to remember to leave her wherever it is you go.” 

Did she do that? No! She brought the little prevert back! And to make matters worse, the Daikini child was now wearing some kind of vest or something. And it was pink! 



I can think of a million colors more attractive than pink! Like the color of one of my hairballs.

And! As if my life wasn’t stressful enough, the Daikini child did nothing but fuss, and fuss, and fuss. Like her life is hard or something? 

“You want to talk about a hard life?” I said to her. “My life is rough. The other day I had a piece of poop stuck to the fur on the back of my butt and I had to rub my butt up and down Momma’s pillow multiple times before it came off.”

I don’t think anyone appreciates how hard I work to maintain excellent hygiene.

The only time the Daikini child wasn’t fussing was when Momma was holding her which I thought was rude because I’m the only one Momma should be holding. 

So there we were, the three of us, sitting on the sofa. Momma was holding the Daikini child and I was sitting up on the back of the sofa, staring down at the Daikini child. And do you know what she did? She smiled at me. I hate it when she does that. It’s so vile and repulsive. I almost vomited.

Anyway, we were watching some movie called Julie & Julia because Momma has decided she’s going to start cooking. That’s going to be a real treat for everyone. The last time she “cooked” something was last night. She made microwavable macaroni and cheese and almost set the damn house on fire. If she’s serious about cooking, Boy-Dadda is going to need to invest in a few more fire extinquishers.

Sigh. The movie was fine. Momma was fine. I was fine. The Daikini child was being super annoying. She kept smiling at me like a little jerk. A ball of drool came out of her mouth and trickled down her chin. She reached up with her wormy fingers and dipped one of them into the drool. And then, it happened. The Daikini child assaulted me. She reached up with her drool-soaked finger and tried to grab my fur. 

There was no way I was going to let that little prevert assault me. And definitely not with a slimy finger. This is how Ebola virus is spread, Diary! I hissed at her and slapped her three times, feeling confident that would send a strong message to her. For good measure I reached out and tried to slap her a fourth time.



Momma, unappreciative of the fact that I was trying to teach the Daikini child manners, intercepted the fourth slap and knocked me off the sofa. “You do NOT hit my child.”

I looked up at her with an exceptional amount of disdain. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I just did.”

Boy-Dadda returned home a few minutes later with the Little Thing and his Minion. When the hell are these humans going to learn to leave the offspring behind? They’re unwillingness to cooperate is infuriating.

Momma told him how the Daikini child assaulted me. Except that in her version of events, I was the villain and that little prevert was the victim. 

So there I am, sitting on the back of the other sofa, listening to Momma fabricate the details of the evening. And what does Boy-Dadda do? He walked over to me and scowled at me. Who the hell are these humans? I wasn’t going to stand by and take that crap from him. I reached out with my paw, trying to slap him. Once again, I was intercepted – this time by Boy-Dadda. And do know what he did, Diary? He shoved me off the sofa. That was twice in one night!


And that’s when I had it. Enough was enough. It was time to call PETA. I hopped onto Momma’s computer to look up the number for reporting animal abuse. According to their website, if it’s a matter of immediate danger, everyone was supposed to call 9-1-1. And that’s what I did. I knocked the phone in Momma’s room onto the floor and I called 9-1-1. Below is a recording of the phone call.


It should be obvious from the recording that things did not go well during that conversation. I hung up the phone and went about my business. There was all kinds of chaos and commotion in the hall bathroom. Momma was in there washing the Minion’s hair. The Minion was screaming her head off because water got into her eyes. “I need a towel! I need a towel!” She screamed.

“You’re holding it in your hand,” Momma said.

I rolled my eyes at both of them and walked out of the bathroom. 

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A. Marie Smith

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