If pets kept a diary...

cuwiar

cuwiar

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From a Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

From a Cat's Diary

Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. B@stards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies'. I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now... Will keep you posted.
 
Marigold's diary.

Woke up about 7.00, could hear the wild birds singing and moving around. Got shoved on to the back perch as usual, had to wait for those stuck-up hybrids to get moving, and then Nutmeg, before I could get out. By the time I'd hopped on to the front perch and then down the ramp, they'd all got their heads stuck into the bowl of mash and eaten most of the mealworm topping, although (because?) they know how much I like it. I have a feeling they snigger about me behind my wings. i've even heard Her say she thinks I'm a bit thick, when She thought I wasn't listening.

An hour later, She walks past with the dog, who is being taken out to free range in the field, which looks a lovely place, from what we can see of it through the hedge and fence, but we're not allowed in there. We are all left in our run, 'to eat your pellets and lay your eggs, like good girls!' Patronising woman!
However, later in the morning I'm just setlling down to lay a nice egg. It's lovely and peaceful in the nestbox, the only time I get to myself really, and i'm just going off into a little doze when I hear Her arriving to let us out into the garden for our daily playtime. Oh no! They'll eat all the worms and grass before I get there! It'll be the mealworm scenario all over again! I cluck loudly but nobody takes any notice, so I give a huge push and out it comes. No time to have a little brood (indeed, when I tried that last year She was horrible to me about it and put a large cold flowerpot in MY nestbox.) I chase off after the others and find they're eating up the bits of peanuts dropped from the bird feeders (yes, no boring old pellets for the wild birds.) I must say, Nutmeg is quite kind to me when we're outside, shows me where to go and what to do, saves a lot of brain power.
Later on, They have Their lunch, indoors, we can see them through the window. It looks good and I can see the dog getting some nice little treats as well. So we all line up at the French windows and tap at the glass and turn our heads sideways to let Her know we'd like to come in. This doesn't work, but She does come out of the kitchen door after a bit and walks down the garden calling 'Chook! Chook!' in a very funny voice. We don't know why She does this but we all follow along as fast as we can and pile back into the run for a few measly handfuls of corn. After that, we all have a little snooze on the perches and finish up what's left of the mash, until it's time to go to roost.
Not a bad life, really, I suppose. I'm just glad She's posted a nice picture of me on the Forum, so at least people can see how beautiful I am. Fame of a sort, I suppose, even if I'm not as brainy as Some People!
 
Hilarious. Really enjoyed reading both of those Cuwiar and Marigold. So my contribution:-

Bottom's diary.

5.30am Woken up again by the neighbours running up and down the stairs. I'm hungry -where's my food?
Can't find it anywhere. They've taken it away again because they say I'm fat. I'll get them up and get my food."Cock-a doodle-dooo!" "Cock-a-doodle-doooooooo!" "Cock-a-doodle-DOOOOOOOOOOO!"

5.45am. I can hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It's Daddy Bird. If I make some sad little noises he'll give me my food. "Poo poo pook". Works every time!

6.00am. Heating has come on now, so I'll stand in front of the fan radiator and preen a bit. Then I'll have a nap under the table.

7.00am. I can hear Mummy Bird coming down the stairs -time for treats. Here she is, if I stand by the worktop maybe I'll get it quicker. Yum,yum. tomato and grapes, my favorites and never enough. Made a bit of a mess here but never mind, Mummy Bird always cleans it up.

8.00am. Wonder if that pretty hen is in the dining room. Just pop down the hall and have a look. Yep, she's there. I'll just sidle over to her, stomp my feet, give her the one eye stare and Bob's your Uncle.

8.05am. Well that didn't work. She must be a bit odd - maybe she likes other hens? Still while I'm here I'll have a nap on this nice soft carpet.

Midday. What's that noise at the back door, must go round and investigate. Oh, it's only Daddy Bird. Better go under the table while he cleans up my 'accidents' in the dining room.

12.10pm. What's he doing at the worktop there? He has just opened the fridge and that's full of goodies so I will try and scrounge some. "Poo poo pook" "poo poo pook". Can't understand it, usually works, and I'm sure I would like cream crackers with Stilton cheese, despite what he tells me! Might as well have some more pellets while I'm up, don't want to get hungry later. Not much left in here though. Bet it's that hen next door pinching my food again -don't know how she gets out of that cage and sneaks back in? I'll nickname her 'Houdini' !!

2.30pm. Daddy Bird is putting his coat on and now his Wellies. If I remember correctly he always does this before he takes me down to the Orchard to see my girls. I'll just stand still and see if he talks to me. Yep, it's time to go. So excited, wish he'd walk a bit faster. Here they all are my lovelies. Bottom's here and I'll show you were the food is. But so there's no doubt who is in charge you will all get 'the stompy dance' first.

2.35pm. Wish these Wyandottes would clear off. I keep chasing them away but they still come back damn things! There seems to be more of them every day.

5.00pm. Well my girls are all safe in their coops so I'd better go back to mine. Wish they didn't keep this gate shut, I have to wait for Mummy or Daddy Bird to come and fetch me and here they are. Must tell them all about my day while we walk back, but I am so tired and just want a cuddle and a sleep.

5.01pm. Here's my bed -just move it about a bit and get comfortable. Nice and warm in here and I'm so t....

6.00pm. The light's come on so it must be cuddle time and Mummy Bird is here to collect me. I never had Mummy Bird cuddles until I came here. I was hatched in a machine and just left alone with my brothers and sisters in a cardboard box. So I'll just snuggle under her wing and have another nap. If I wriggle about a bit she'll squeeze me tighter... Ah, that's it.

7.00pm. Why has she woken me up. Oh, table cover is on and my food and water is there. I'm really hungry again so I'll eat some while I watch the people in the Country through the window in the corner.

7.30pm. Oh dear. Fallen asleep in my water again. Mummy Bird please take me to my bed and tuck me in. Need more sleep so I'll be ready for the girls tomorrow ZZZZZ........
 
Very good! Loved them all. Perhaps you should all get together and write a book!
 
Marigold's Diary

I have been having a simply terrible time, you wouldn't believe how cruel She has been to me. The past week, I've been thinking about those lovely eggs that some hens with more understanding owners are allowed to sit on, and the beautiful little fluffy chicks that result from them. I really feel I would make a wonderful Mum - in fact, I heard Her say so to a friend. I have been laying a lovely egg every day for ages now, and once it has come, I've tended to just go on sitting there, warm and cosy and all fluffed up, dreaming about babies. She has been keeping Her beady eye on me, though, and lifting me off and confiscating my egg and putting me outside in the cold grass run and blocking the nestboxes with big flowerpots at night so I can't sneak in there to sleep - and dream.....
My chest has been getting lovely and warm, just what you need this awful weather, and two days ago I decided enough was enough. Instead of sleeping on a perch I cuddled up on the floor of the coop, spread out my wings and got nice and cosy. Unfortunately She found me, rooted me out, scolded me, and put me out in that nasty draughty grass run all day, with only Amber for company since Amber never lays anyway. I puffed myself up, growled at her, would have spat if I'd been able, and ran around all day clucking my extreme disapproval.
But worse was to come ! When it was bedtime, Amber was allowed back in the run with the other two, but I was picked up and forceably pushed into a nasty guinea pig cage, with a mesh floor and sides, no perches, and absolutely nowhere to cuddle up comfortably. The wind up my bum was simply terrible. I could feel my chest cooling down, and the night seemed very long.
She rescued me at 7.00, and it was back in the grass run with Amber for the day - chilly and windy again. Then She gave me a good talking-to. She said She would put me back in the run with the others and watch to see if I went into the nestboxes, either straight away, or at bedtime. If I did, it would be another night in the Sin Bin.
Well, I had no choice, did I? Once again, my dreams of maternity have been cruelly dashed. Deeply disappointed, but somehow, now my chest has cooled down, it's more fun to be out with the other girls, especially my best friend Nutmeg, than boxed in to a nestbox for hour after boring hour. I think tomorrow I'll probably feel OK again. But I do have one revenge card up my wing - I might be feeling a moult coming on. That'll teach Her - nothing She can do about that!
 
Update from Marigold's diary, (bedtime.)

Things have just got worse and worse. After I was put back in the run, I knew She was watching me, so I made a point of staying out of the coop and walking round ostentatiously with the other girls. When bedtime came I found She had blocked off the nestboxes, of course, and I didn't fancy the perches somehow, so I just tucked myself in quite comfortably on the newspaper in the corner behind the pophole and was just spreading my wings, fluffing myself up, and settling down after not sleeping a wink last night, when She appears, bundles me out of the coop and to my horror I find I'm on my way out of the run and being stuffed into the Sin Bin again! I squawked really loudly, and my friend Nutmeg rushed out of the coop as well calling out' 'Marigold! Where are you going? come back!'

But it was no use. Here I am, back in the slammer, most uncomfortable. She kept on uttering platitudes like 'It's for your own good, Marigold' and 'This hurts me more than it hurts you.' All I can say is, She's going to sleep in a lovely cosy bed, no doubt. She should try it out here, with the wind up her bum, see how she likes it.

I am a very disgruntled and unhappy hen.
 
Poor Marigold Marigold. We've stopped putting ours out a night after losing Lulu. But it does take a heck of a lot longer for them to snap out of it. Ollie doesn't even go into the nest box now as she thinks it is blocked off (and its not). She went two weeks last time. Good thing is we now know she will make a good broody and go the distance. Mind you her mum did bite the heads off all the other chicks and eat then as they hatched !!!
 
Oh, just discovered these. They're great!!! I don't think I can do as well, but here goes;- Big Thrush's Diary
It's the fourth, what fifth day now. Seems like months. What is that person, calls herself ''mum' thinking of? Every year poor Little Thrush gets locked up in a pen or in the garage for ages, and I am not allowed near her. But before she has had company:- little ones, our children. Now she is alone and she should be out with me to make her eggs good. What is that 'mum' person thinking? She keeps saying she's very sorry and she knows I want to be with Little Thrush, who is getting quite desperate to be out and throws herself against the wire so much that I'm hoping that soon it will come away and she'll be free.
The 'mum' did try to explain. Bless her she tries to think at us but she isn't very good at it. It is something to do with where Little Thrush is laying her eggs. Always before 'mum' has built a little pen round her chosen nest site, which is open at the top so that Little thrush can fly out when she has to announce her sitting prowess which she does from the roof of the next house along. And every morning 'mum opened the pen so that she could walk back in after her constitutional. Then when the eggs hatched, my beautiful family were moved into the garage, but that was all right because 'mum' let them out every morning so that we were all together.
Only when the little ones disappeared and turned into these horrible peacock boys they were locked up for a while until someone came and took the boys away. But after that she was free. Now there are no boys and she is locked up and she hasn't even stopped laying her eggs!! And all because 'mum' didn't like the lovely nest she chose in the flower bed under a little wall between the sun lounge nd the swiming pool, next door.
 
Yes, i really enjoyed that. Our ways must seem so puzzling to other species, don't you think?
Glad to say my Marigold (there she is, in the pic on the right) has now fully recovered and actually laid an egg today, a week after her second night in the Sin Bin. It certainly worked!
 
Marigold's Diary , July.

There have been some very strange goings on here lately. First there was all that rain for weeks and weeks, we got quite bedraggled, and I went broody again as it was at least dry and comfortable in the nestbox. I changed my mind after a couple of nights in the sin bin, but for a while I enjoyed dreaming of chicks.... Then, when the rain had stopped, we all had to spend a day out in the garden, whilst a man came and removed the old roof that covered part of our run. He carried three large green sheets of old roof and dropped them down BANG! next to us - of course we all panicked, it was terrifying, we thought the sheets were coming to eat us. Then he worked all day putting a new roof on, and when we went back in at night it was all ever so light, and we haven't had wet feathers at all since then, But the strangest goings- on happened this week. Again we were put out in the garden, but I noticed She was working in the run, carrying out sacks of stuff, sweeping up, hosing down everywhere, spraying disinfectant, and generally making a mess of our nice comfortably grubby home.When we were allowed back at night, all the old rubber chippings had disappeared! We had to eat our corn off the landscape fabric on the floor, it was very strange, but at least you could see what you were eating without having to scratch to find it. By then, I was crossing my legs to lay an egg, so I bolted up the ramp to the coop, only to find the pophole was shut! Its never shut, not even in the depths of winter! I made a big fuss, let Her know how urgent it was, and at last She took notice, and opened it. She even apologised, saying She had shut it to keep our coop dry when She was hosing down the run. I raced up the ramp, and got into the nestbox not a moment too soon.
You wouldn't have thought things could possibly get worse but they did, this afternoon. She put us out in the garden again, and kept coming past with great big bags of stuff, cutting them open, and shaking them out all over the run! When we were told to go back in, we all stopped in horror and refused to go through the door. The floor was no longer black, like it's always been ever since I came here as a chick, but had gone all white, like it did in the winter when that stuff fell from the sky, except that was all cold and wet and this was warm and dry. She had to pick us up, one by one, and almost throw us in the run. Of course, Nutmeg and I immediately jumped up on to our perch to get away from the mystery stuff, which was just everywhere and really deep. Those two white hybrids were not so sensible, though, they just started scratching around in it and finding all the bits of corn She had thrown to try to get us inside. Eventually we had to descend, of course, as we were hungry. It all looks terribly clean, will have to see what we can do about that. I must say, it is rather nice to scratch in and warm to sit on. Tomorrow I might try getting underneath the coop and see what it feels like. Only problem now is I heard Her saying to Him that tomorrow She was going to start worming us, whilst everything was so nice and clean. That will mean a week in the run with only rather funny-tasting pellets to eat, I suppose.
 
Aubiose. I contacted Flytes of Fancy to find out their prices + carriage, which I think were £13.50 per bale plus something like £30 carriage however much you bought, and asked how many bales I'd need for a 12 sq. metre run at about 4 ins deep. Very nice reply, told me to get about 1 bale per sq. metre. So I found somewhere local that did free delivery for £9.95 a bale, and ordered 14 bales so I'd have a couple of spares for the quails and for topping up in the months to come. The most I can sensibly get in the run is 6 bales, hens are practically up to their wings in it, but it is lovely stuff and I shall have to find somewhere dry to store the other 8 bales for the next year or two until it all needs changing again. Marigold now happily scratching around, and Flubenvet all mixed ready for tomorrow. They do look good in there. It makes the run look lighter too.
 
We use that as well in Winter in the coops but be careful on very small feet. It is sharp and cuts them as I found out on some week old chicks -blood everywhere and bandages on their toes.
 
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