Fricking Torture

My god…living here is one hellacious day after another. They are friggin KILLING me! Absolutely torturing me — call the authorities because these jerk asses need to be put away!

So I wake up and, like many of my sort, I gotta take a wiz. Nothing to be ashamed about, right? But do they let me out? NO! They lock the back door and I have to beg like a goddam COMMONER for one of these idiots to open the door so I can go do my bidness. Then I go back in to check email and the like and these dillholes LOCK THE DOOR. I’m a goddam prisoner here! I have to through an effing lasso around some jackwagon’s head and practically DRAG him to the door just so I can go out and relieve myself. Or chase some goddam squirrel who now thinks he OWNS the yard because he knows I’m stuck inside. Mocking me. Goddam it!

And stuck in this house, I don’t even get to eat. They STARVE me! I beg and beg and sometimes one of them remembers to pour that stupid kibble into a bowl so I don’t starve to death. Did you know that when I want to eat, I have to FIGHT them for my food? Like I have to yell “THIS IS MINE! GO AWAY!” and they go sliding around, trying to steal my flipping food back. It is horrible! And occasionally, they deign to throw a little water into the bowl. Like I’m such a goddam burden on them and maybe they could give me ANYTHING different. But no. I might as well be wearing a prisoner’s uniform or change my name to Copperfield so my begging would make sense.

So if you read this, HELP ME. Save me from these goddam beasts who lock me up and keep me delirious from hunger, and I promise I won’t kill you. Much.