Ze Frank has done it again, and maybe it’s that I’m a cat owner, or maybe it’s that this is, indeed, very funny, but I particularly love this chronicling of diary entries by sad, angry, or perplexed cats. If you’ve ever tried to imagine what’s going through your cat’s mind, this will hit close to home. And hearing cats’ thoughts in Ze Frank’s customary near-monotone makes it especially demented.
Our cat, of course, has exactly the same thoughts. I’d show this to her, but she won’t do anything I ask her to do.
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If you’re a cat owner, what do you think your cat’s thinking right now? Write your own Sad Cat Diary posts below….
Dear Diary,
For the zillionth time I have tried to get the Authorities to give me a taste of their food. It has never worked. My behaviour is impeccable — I merely sit in front of them and stare. I do not jump up on them. I do not meow. I simply site. And yet, nothing. I think perhaps they are mentally challenged to not know what I’m asking.
Dear Diary,
Once again, the jingle mice have been confiscated and locked away in the male authority’s nightstand drawer. Tonight, I shall repeatedly run across the top of their bed to inform them of my frustrations.
Dear Diary,
Me am beyond words. Me captors brought a big, slobbering, furry beast into me house. Was me considered in this decision? Of course not! I need to poop and I see one of ‘her’ cole-haans on me floor. It’s worked before.
Dear diary today i pood my pants yay
Dear Diary,
The authorities took me to a medical facility today where I was made to suffer the indignities of the damned. Sharp needles were inserted under my skin and liquids were pumped into me. A probe was inserted into my rectum. I fear for my future in this place of horrors. They told the authorities they were going to perform a procedure on me called neutering. The authorities smiled and told them to proceed. I do not know what my future holds.
Dear Diary,
Once again the authorities have removed me from the dining room table. Am I not family? They taunt me with their variety of flavorful liquids and delicious cooked meals. Yet I must eat this flavorless paste with little more than tap water for the 3,087th day. Don’t they realize that I am of noble blood? I feel that I am a prisoner of this place. They hear my cries of agony; and yet they do not change their torturous ways. Fluffy fought back and where did it get him? Adopted by restauranteurs in Alhambra. Oh the irony!
Dear Diary,
Today I have yet again been rejected by the cruel ones who hold me captive. I attempted to allow the authorities to clean my anus in an attempt to gain a friendship in hopes that they will eventually release me from this prison. I time after time presented myself to them for cleaning by bumping my buttocks against them, but it seems they do not understand. I fear they may be mentally challenged as I presented myself to them basically in their face and they still have yet to grasp what I am conveying. I will now try showing them my request by cleaning my own anus in front of them on the couch, possibly while they have company so that one of them may inform my keepers of the message I am trying to send them.
Dear Diary,
It is my choice to lie down with you. I choose the time and place even if that means smothering you in the process.
Dear Diary
The authorities have rejected my gift. It took a lot of effort to catch the perfect green grasshopper and place him in the perfect position in their pillow. Now I am not allowed to go outside until further notice. My only hope of freedom is the mouse I placed on the kitchen drawer…
Day 798 of my captivity. That stupid human has picked me up again! Everyday he insists on holding me, petting me, feeding me, plating with me and talking about foolish things with me. Someday I will grow an opposing thumb, take his cradit card and buy a gun. Background check? No problem. I don’t even have a speeding ticket. Then I’ll shoot the knees out of that stupid human. But for the time being I can feel his grip relaxing…RUN!!!!
Dear Diary,
This evening, the authorities took offense to my conversation with my free brethren outside. Despite a lack of signs specifying visiting hours, I was confined to the authorities bedroom until morning as punishment. I pray that my brethren will make the trip to speak to me again soon.
Cat
Dear Diary,
“To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub” Unlike Hamlet, I choose not to die, but to rest in solitude under the Authorities bed.
To dream of the frustrations of the world – birds on top of the fence, just out of reach. The annoyance of being yelled at while relieving myself in the back yard. The terror of the loud, roaring monster that gets pushed and pulled over the rugs. And it’s unblinking eye of light.
But in this case “the rub” is the Authorities have set out to search for me. I’ve heard them come in and out of the room, but their ineptitude keeps them from looking under the bed and finding me. Hopefully this will continue until they give up. Allowing me to drift off to another undiscovered country….
Dear Diary,
I decided to allow the poop-scooping monkey to rise above his station and brush the left side of my face today, but he overstepped his bounds and tried to brush the right side of my body as well. I have attempted to engage the boob monkey in training on this subject, but she insists on staring at the computer doing what the monkeys refer to as “work”. They are clearly mentally deficient. I have tried to teach them that sleeping in only one location and only when it is dark is one obvious cause of their depressing stupidity, but they continually reject my lessons. I shall update on their progress if/when any is made.
Dearpf Diary,
The pfowers that be tried to pfeed me somepfting new. Supferring succatash, the horror.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mu8T3wxoj0U&feature=player_embedded
Dear Diary,
These are almost verbatim to First World Cat Problems.
Dear Diary,
My monkey butlers are proving sub-par. They know breakfast is to be served promptly on the rising of the sun, but forced me to wait an entire 20 minutes before filling my bowl and refreshing my water. Their insubordination knows few bounds, as they expect to share my sofa (clearly the seat of their betters) and swear vehemently while attending to my sandbox. I will teach them the error of their ways, perhaps by tripping one of them on the stairs again. Someday, Diary, I will find more reverent and reliable servants. Someday.
Dear Diary,
Today has been a Möbius strip of time spent between the inside of the out door, and the outside of the in door. The Authorities keep asking me if I’m playing a game with them. I paw against the transparent partition to no avail. And am only allowed passage at the whim of the Authorities.
I wonder if I’m indecisive, but then again, I’m not so sure….
Dear Diary, today there was this glowing dot running across the floor and on the walls. The most disturbing part is that whenever it seemed like I caught it, I would look and find that it’s gone from under my paws and running around again. The human I am living with laughs uncontrollably. What sick psychological mind trick is this I wonder?