Finally, I have been able to convince the jail keeper to allow a call for mercy. You don’t know the conditions that I am being forced to live under.   The terms of my captivity are not for the squeamish. I am under a strict diet of no grain food of the worst quality. (I think I even saw the term “dog food” on the bag, made by a cruel person so scared to own up to it that he calls himself the “Blue Buffalo.” If I ever find him…   I am forced to sleep in an orthopedic bed in “the Master’s Bedroom”, as my cell mate has displayed hip problems and my constant attempts to confuse him by switching beds  has forced “the Master” to buy two of them.   While I have lost my edge and have soft pink paws now, with short nails you couldn’t hurt a flea with, I attempt to maintain my fitness with daily outings with the other inmate in “the Yard”. However, they keep me on a leash when we go for our daily walks, or I would be forced to defend these putrid beings, as is my nature.   The one called mother-in-law has cute feet. I like her for some reason, and lick them whenever possible. Maybe she can aid in my escape.
The cell mate is big, but he’s soft, and I can take him. I constantly keep him in line by chewing on his face and paws while he makes pathetic attempts to push me away by batting me with those same paws.

I must cut this missive short. The Master whom I currently control must leave to go to work. More later…
Please, I beg of you, stop this madness.
Calliope (Callie)(Cowie)(poop-eater)