An Impassioned Plea For Animal Rights

That's right, folks.  Don't let Jamie fool you by telling you she "loves" me and "wants us to get along better" and that's why she's got me stuck in this dreadful Xpen prison.

Love!  Would it were to do with such a noble emotion, I would have high hopes of ever getting out of this nuthouse jail.

But no, insisting "her possessions are worth something" (has Jamie seen the economic news lately, I wonder?) she has me holed up in the slammer until further notice.  The book I sampled a few nights ago all but proof for her henious crime.  Perhaps if you could procure her a subscription the World Economist then, so she could quietly but quickly divest herself of the heady bourgeois notion of "private property" and we could get a few groundrules straight.

First.  Nothing, I  repeat nothing gives her the right to stick me in one of these puppy torture chambers.  I don't care how cute and well-behaved I seem at the moment, it's because my will to survive has dropped preciptiously.  I need a serious intervention her, stat, folks.  My puppy levels of cuteness might fade away to nothing if not revived in the next few minutes.    I'm like the orchestra playing in one of those Red Cross films of the old Nazi concentration camps.  Pandering to the camera because it's all I have l left people.  No choices.  No future.  Just bleak pureed puppy gruel and a life behind bars stuffed with kong toys and the occassional toy-on-a-rope.  Would you give your freedom for this?

I rather thought not.

You should see me, flailing my tiny, pathetic puppy limbs on the cold, hard metal of the bars, yapping my fool ears off.  Humans must be extremely deaf, as any dog mother in a fifty radius could pick out my Puppy Distress-o-Meter when it goes off.

Jamie sees it as progress now that these Puppy Scream a Thons only go on for a few minutes as opposed to the hours they used to go in days before.  Yes, you read that right.  Puppy and Scream and "A-Thon" in the same phrase.  So egregiously wrong people. 

Well, it's exhausting work, being captive.  You've seen that movie, Silence of the Lambs, right?  Clarice gets pretty quiet by the end.  Or maybe not.  My slash-fic Hollywood thriller movie circa 1980-90 something isn't real great yet.

But you get my point.  I shouldn't be allowed to suffer.  I'm off to paw some letters to Camus and Merleu Ponty and see if I can get some stuff done, letters of release written, etc.