• Dear Diary,
    Today was not a good day. I was minding my own business, primping myself in the parrot’s mirror, (which he doesn’t deserve to have, why can’t they just put it in my home???) when I heard the bell tinkle (not pee, ring) outside the door. I’m usually excited to see the pets come (they are sooooo cute with their extra long paws and feet, and I just love the different fur styles on their heads!) but after my experience I don’t think I ever want to see them again. I ran my paw through my fur one last time, and then ran out to see who the pets were today. It was a tall female with yellow fur on her head and a little male, (that evil, evil little boy) who walked over to my home and started jumping and pointing at me. I was positive that he was admiring my beautiful honey-colored fur, when “the man in the red shirt” came over and started to lift me out of my house. I dove into my bedroom and hid under the warm and soft fluff. But he just lifted my bedroom up (gasp!) and grabbed me with his big paws, then dumped me into the little boys hands. I wriggled around, trying to escape, when the boy started squeezing me to death! I squeaked my head off (not literally) but with no use. I knew it was my time to go, so I squeaked my will to my family and friends. I was still speaking when I got an idea. I wiggled around, hopped onto the boy’s shoulder, jumped and bit his nose. It really wasn’t that bad, I filed my teeth this morning, or was it yesterday, or three months ago? Oh well, he quickly dropped me, and I was free! I took a few deep breaths before peeing on the floor and running into a corner. The “man in the red shirt” quickly picked me up and shoved me back into my house. I saw the female scold “the man in the red shirt” and grab her son’s hand and dragged him out of the store. But right after they left, I got a new roommate. Her name is Gertrude and she is a little odd. Her eyes roll around her head and she has foam around her mouth. She is pretty nice though, I think we’ll make good friends, as long as she doesn’t hog the parrot’s mirror.

    Love, Missy