Excited Dog
17/05/12 21:19
So I saw this sketch (I think it’s a Russell Howard one but don’t quote me on that) and I thought it pretty much summed up how I’m feeling right now.
Dog’s Diary.
0800 - Dog food! My favourite thing!
0930 - A car ride! My favourite thing!
0940 - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
1030 - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
1500 - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
1700 - Dinner! My favourite thing!
2200 - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
Basically, the joke is comparing this to a Cat’s Diary - which goes something like this:
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 some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I 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 my capabilities. However, they merely remarked about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate on of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again... 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. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate 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...
Anyway, you get the gist. But right now, I feel like the dog - or, the Excited Dog, as I am calling him - where everything is my favourite thing. I think it’s mostly down to my boyfriend giving me permission to spend hours online looking at clothes and makeup in an attempt to let him know what I actually want for my birthday. But it’s had a knock on effect. I’m excited about everything. My little sister is part of the school orchestra who will be performing the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Cats, (ironically) in June. Cats also happens to be my favourite musical. Ever. And then there’s the fact that I got to spend all of last week with my best friend - an American rifle shooter who I only ever see at competitions - and we talked about all the things we’d do on her trip to Scotland (which won’t be until 2013, so I don’t know why I’m so excited about it)...
So for now, I am the Excited Dog. And loving every minute of it.
Dog’s Diary.
0800 - Dog food! My favourite thing!
0930 - A car ride! My favourite thing!
0940 - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
1030 - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
1500 - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
1700 - Dinner! My favourite thing!
2200 - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
Basically, the joke is comparing this to a Cat’s Diary - which goes something like this:
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 some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I 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 my capabilities. However, they merely remarked about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate on of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again... 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. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate 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...
Anyway, you get the gist. But right now, I feel like the dog - or, the Excited Dog, as I am calling him - where everything is my favourite thing. I think it’s mostly down to my boyfriend giving me permission to spend hours online looking at clothes and makeup in an attempt to let him know what I actually want for my birthday. But it’s had a knock on effect. I’m excited about everything. My little sister is part of the school orchestra who will be performing the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Cats, (ironically) in June. Cats also happens to be my favourite musical. Ever. And then there’s the fact that I got to spend all of last week with my best friend - an American rifle shooter who I only ever see at competitions - and we talked about all the things we’d do on her trip to Scotland (which won’t be until 2013, so I don’t know why I’m so excited about it)...
So for now, I am the Excited Dog. And loving every minute of it.