February 11, 2008.

It's raining, it's pouring, my bitch is writing fiction again. Why not? It's better than reality if you let it be. She said she can mix love and fear and love and anger into a toxic fictional cocktail just as well as humans can in "reality". Frankly, I think she lost any sense of reality a long time ago. I mean look at her, I'm her best friend, it's a one way conversation and I shed black hair all over her sheets and she doesn't like hirsute in men, so go figure why she loves a big hairy, slobbering stud like me?????

My yams are in the oven. I can smell them, sweet and caramel. I'm going to have my third nap now while she moves words around on the screen. Puppy oh puppy! Humans sure make stupid lives for themselves!

Mingus, the wise

Nighttime....
My Bitch went swimming without me again.... something about pool rules and health and chlorine, and someone called Health Regulations .... she's pulling away isn't she???? I love her anyway. She cooks good yams and salmon, but what's with the broccoli in my dinner???? What happened to asparagus, huh????

My human ex-Dad sent us a Snoopy valentine. I'm funnier than Snoopy, I'm sure.... My Bitch says to stop being so competitive.... easy for her to say, she can drive and cook and go out on her own.... I have to rely on her for everything.... she has no idea how insecure that makes me and how I have to over-inflate my sense of self so that I can keep tricking her into loving me. She says that's ridiculous--her love is unconditional just like mine, but I know how humans work with their hidden agendas.... Am I really worthy of being loved for just being? That would be nice and civil. I have to pee.

Goodnight,
copyright 2008 Christine Saulnier, Mingusandthebitch