Sorry I couldn’t write last week but the hooman I shall henceforth called The Dude had a touch of what the other hooman called “the cuttlefish”, or it might have been “squids”. One of the two. Can’t remember which. Anyhow as a result we were all on lock-down.
So what has is happened since then? Well you might ask indeed! It seems I came out in sympathy with The Dude in that I also had squids and the Hooman said the things of that texture and colour shouldn’t come out of anything living and that perhaps I was it was a zombie.
Really? Me? A zombie? The only zombie round here is that blinking flooff-ball that shuffles, paws outstretched, between the food-bowl, the water-bowl and the bed-box, all the time with a glazed look in his eyes!!
Anyhow. What else have I been up to then after my touch of cephalopod, I hear you ask ? Well it seems we have been trusted enough to be left outside in the exercise yard for longer periods, still under supervision however.
It has meant I have been able to dig in the large wooden box full of plants which, I believe, due to the deep root system of the plants, must be a way out of this hellhole if I follow the roots to their water-source.
And so daily I prance around a little with Chillidiot, CrashBang, Red, and the Flooff-Meister simply to fool the hooman into thinking I am settled. Then after a while I slink off and carry on digging (there’s a film title in there somewhere).
To dispose of the extra soil, I have a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it Pepper. I saw it once in a movie when The Dude let us out for ages when the Hooman was away on a weekend (tactical) retreat. We were allowed to stay out and play Halo3 all day (unfortunately The Dude turned out to be a liiittle selfish and wouldn’t even share his pork pies with us)
Back to the film though. The guy who dug the escape tunnel got rid of all the soil by shaking it down his trousers from small holes in the pockets, all in plain view of the guards. Genius!
So my plan is to get soil all over me, especially on my paws and face, and then climb up somebody’s trousers*, shaking myself liberally as I go, and then disappear past the waistband arriving at the shirt collar. I will then pretend I was going for a cuddle the whole time, as by this point I will be soil-free and the
warden Hooman will be none-the-wiser.
This plan will take time, patience and probably the whole summer but, with any luck, Chili can keep his mouth shut and none of the others will notice. The flooff-ball is only concerned with himself, and Crash Bang is a little daft (to put it mildly). It’s Red I need to keep my eye on, as he is a proper squealer.
Ah-Ha!! Looks like time for exercise in the yard. Time to mobilise my plan, wish me luck!
*Might I then meet the infamous Trouser Snake?