Sep. 6th, 2009

theloldog: (Default)
I do not know what happened.  I was in the re-education camp, then I was with my humans, then there was this small yellow pill.  The next thing I remember is getting out of the wheely zoomy box ... on MARS.  Or maybe not actually Mars, but it might as well be.

My couch is here.  The humans' bed is here.  There are things that smell like me, but I think they're meant to fool me.  I am not fooled.  I do NOT know where I am, familiar scents notwithstanding.

My humans and I, and an inexplicable assortment of familiar items have been Transported. 

My humans don't seem to have been adversely affected, but I am definitely suffering for the change.  It does not help that my humans have gone mad.  They keep trying to convince me that it is a good idea to go up and down a flight of Stairs.  This is Not a Good Idea.  I am not built for stairs.  I am too delicate.  Steps, yes.  Stairs, no.  I get carried up stairs.  That is how it works.  My humans seem to have forgotten this.  So perhaps they have been made amnesic by the Transportation.

The humans also have failed to notice that my floor space has shrunk.  I need to do two laps of the lounge room for every one I used to do BT (Before Transportation).  I notice these things, because I am Observant.  I have made an Empirical Study of the dimensions of this floor, and it is definitely smaller.

The other thing that is small and different and that I do not like is the Box.  The Box has an open door.  I know it is a trap, so even though my bedding is in the Box, I will not go inside.  The door will close on me and I will be Transported again, and this is an Unacceptable Outcome of an easily avoided set of actions (ie going inside the Box and lying down).

I am not sure how I feel about life on Mars (or wherever this is...).  I will have to further explore the area to make an accurate assessment of its suitability.  I know that there are other dogs here.  I have had Conversations with them.  I have also met some humans.  There are a lot of those here.


theloldog: (Default)

March 2010


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Being a dog has its disadvantages. For instance, I have neither prehensile fingers nor opposeable thumbs. Because of this, this journal is ghost written by a human. She is my human, you can not have her.

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