HAVE you ever wondered what goes on inside the mind of a cat?

Apparently there is an evil genius lurking behind those furry little ears if this secret diary found online is anything to go by.

Better keep a closer eye on the neighbour's cat from now on - DAY 752: My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while - am forced to eat dry cereal.

The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction - get from shredding the occasional piece of furniture.

DAY 761: Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded - must try this at the top of the stairs.

DAY 762: Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep-depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

DAY 765: Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts.

They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was. . .Hmmm.

Not working according to plan. . .

DAY 768: I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture.

This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo". What sick minds could invent such a liquid?

My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth and the tiny bit of flesh under my claws.

DAY 771: There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event.

However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odour of the glass tubes they call "beer". More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was owing to MY power of "allergies".

Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774: I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches.

The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.

The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole-speak) and speaks with them regularly.

I am certain he reports my every move.

Owing to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured.

But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.

Joke of the week: What do you find up a clean nose? Fingerprints

1:45pm Thursday 3rd April 2008

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