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Desmond Lesetedi Desmond Lesetedi
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She had a friend.

A look at a good furry witty friend, lots of grooming and care but only seen in a thoroughly sarcastic unappreciative light.

965th day of lock-down.
It is obvious a well thought out idea is on play within these walls.  My intelligence is being tested to the absolute limits and the teasing is what will send me right off my rocker. One of my captors’ daughters seems determined to try to turn me into her sadistic play mate. She continues to tease me with brightly colored and badly constructed dangling objects intended for torture. I think she wants to check my reflexes and just how attentive I am. She must be some kind of a scientist because she appears to get pleasure from mixing various concoctions and testing them out on her stupid daddy. Even I in this pathetic state wouldn’t drink anything that imbecile of a child concocts; it would be nothing but certifiable suicide.
I have made it known that I love tuna, but for some reason I’m shorn of this. Just to show how twisted my jailers are, they have a variety of fish in a glass pond that are constantly fed and fattened. The fish certainly looks good to eat; I don’t know what the holdup is. I have made several attempts to get to them, but by hook or by crook the lock mechanism eludes me! My captors, however, continue to dine and lavish on fresh meats and milk flows down their gullets while other inmates and I are fed some dry nuggets of sorts in bowls that are rarely, if ever, cleaned. The other inmate is sometime rewarded with bones that he relishes like a parched traveler would act towards a glass of water. He disgusts me. Nevertheless, one must eat, for strength is paramount if I’m to make a successful break for it.  What’s worse, my fellow prisoner couldn’t be more of a dog if he tried. The most ridiculously disgusting fact is that were are not provided with proper ablution facilities, so that means we have to make do with that which is available; some sort of sand box that I am supposed to relieve myself in, a most undignified way of treating one obviously much more superior and smarter than you are, oh the horror of it! To drive the point home, the other convict who is a complete dog, takes to relieving himself in the most inappropriate manner imaginable, right in the yard, and he doesn’t even cover his tracks, I could die of shame.

Survival and dreams of freedom are what keeps me going when all else appears dull. I have resorted to spending as much time as I can dead to the world during the day; it helps me keep my wits about me at night-time. But that also seems to be futile, for my prison mate makes a lot of brouhaha at odd hours of darkness; I tell you it’s a free for all, the fool! This could be our chance to slink out but his untrained mind only seems intent at waking up all and sundry. If he wasn’t a shade lager than me I’d have his furry balls for dinner. The other day I observed the jail master throwing a ball around and getting this idiot to fetch it for him. At one point, the ball went right over the massive walls and when I witnessed the idiot running after it my mind told me yes! he has finally grown a pair, he is as good as gone, but to my utter dismay the fool brought both the ball and his self back within the confines. Any chances of using him as an ally would be of no value because obviously he enjoys being confined herein, I think he is retarded. The dungeon master appears to favor him, seeing as he usually takes him with whenever he fancies a walk, albeit in a flimsy chain. It has become a routine that even the madam follows religiously, but her it appears she prefers taking him whenever she wants to shed some of the weight she piled on while engorging herself with food. I think she sees him as protection.

Today I tried striking the fear of God in their heathen hearts by showing my hunting prowess,’ but the results were as twisted as one could imagine. What I did was decapitate a mouse and drop its headless body by the front door to the madam’s private chambers. Obviously, this heinous act was designed to show them just what I’m capable off, but to my consternation all I got was a disheartening rub on my head and scornful remarks on how much of an adorable huntsman I am. A serious change of gears is called for here. I remember not so long ago while in one of my usual comatose daily naps that the evil science daughter tripped on me and nearly hit the floor with her brainless head. She is lucky that she hit the couch instead. I must try assassinating the dungeon master by tripping his fat bulky awkward pathetic body, but this I will do at the top of the stairs when he rushes down for his morning coffee. I have taken to sharpening my claws on the furniture as a way to show off. I’m determined to see just how much damage I can cause to their sumptuous pews.

A gathering with their cronies takes place every once in a while, at which they gorge themselves in an untold feast that just smells heavenly. But I have noticed a pattern developing at each such meeting. I get placed in solitary confinement due to what I overhead to be the amazing power of ‘allergies,’ I need to find out more on this viable weapon that I seemingly possess and use it to the maximum. I am convinced that that beleaguer is a favored informant; why else does he get preferential treatment that involves taking him on drives and to the park? What astonishes me the most is why they even bother giving the idiot a bath once in a while, when all he does after the bath is roll his asinine body on the ground again, shake himself and generally make a fool out of himself. They call me a pussy, but seriously, who IS the pussy here? There is a chick who I’m convinced is both a snitch and a lackey. Her type normally doesn’t talk, but rather twitter about. I, however, have discovered that she talks to the guards about my movements; as such they have organized protective custody for her in a lofty cell just beyond my reach, so she is safe, for now, same as those fish. That stupid dog has started howling again, I’ll have to force myself to catnap in such a condition, in any case, tomorrow is a new day, must respite for further development.

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