Dear Diary
December 23, 2003I have been forced to live the life of a vagabond. I extol the cutthroat virtues of cruelty and maliciousness. I wander street to street, alley to alley looking for scraps. I spend many sleepless nights fighting off those who would have my spot under the vent of a restaurant. My dreams are filled with spicy Thai scents.
Thankfully. The raccoon keeps coming back. He smells like the cat's litter box after Master goes on a business trip. He is decent sort of fellow, however. Helps me fight off some of the bigger dogs who want to take the spot at night. Can't say too many bad things about an animal who acts like he has opposable thumbs. He brought me a jar of pickles last night. What the hell am I going to do with a jar? Is he going to bring me a piano next? It was kindness, though, and despite my growing depression I politely declined.
I thought I saw Master walk by the other day. I ran up to the person thinking it was him but my elation turned to ashes in my mouth as I realized that he only had the same winter coat as Master.
The faint pulse of hope fades within me. The roaring fire of joy that I once knew is but a feeble spark. I am doomed to a fate of isolation, fear and brutality. Left alone, adrift in this heartless world. Where fate and will do not conspire, nature seeks its own desire.
| Posted by vinny9 on December 23, 2003 with category tags of Weblog |
Written by vinny9
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