Hello. My name is Tigger. I want to voice a complaint about my deteriorating living conditions here.
A few weeks ago, my human decided on a whim to change my food and the food of my brothers and sister. She’s forcing us to eat RAW meat! This lady’s obviously gone bonkers.
And, as if that isn’t bad enough, in 2008, she took away our bowls of dry food that we depended on to snack on all day long, to keep up our energy, only letting us have it for an hour twice a day. But now, she never gives us the really good crunchy stuff anymore. Well, like a tablespoon. And not very often.
I’m going to starve to death.
She said she’s doing it for “health reasons,” and that it’s really good for us, and that we’ll be much healthier and happier on this diet. But I don’t believe it, not for a minute.
I don’t see HER eating it! She’s still cooking HER meat. If it’s so good for us, why isn’t she eating it too? Tell me that!
In my weakened state, I have been unsuccessful at convincing her of our plight. I am the leader of the pride, so the others depend on me to make things right. I have tried to protest these abusive conditions.
- I have complained, negotiated, and even cried. She is ruthless.
- I have gone on huger strikes, subjecting myself to great pain, to put it mildly. I once put myself through this for an hour, to no avail. An HOUR! Can you imagine? I am lucky to be alive.
- I have dumpster dived in the kitchen garbage can.
- I have pulled over the crunchy food bin in the pantry and tried to pry it open.
- I even tried hunting in an effort to sustain myself and the others. If it weren’t for the spider I caught, my ribs would be sticking out.
- Out of sheer desperation, I am breaking dishes now. I wait until she is asleep at night and jump up on the kitchen counter and push everything off, including our little stacks of bowls. This has been met with great ire from the lady at 4 o’clock in the morning and sometimes yelling, but she still refuses to change her behavior.
I even sent in little Alex, her favorite, to plead with her, begging her to have mercy on us. But even that strategy failed.
If I had fingers, I would hack into all these websites that advocate the BARF diet and shred their cookies, because that’s where she got this cockamamie idea in the first place. I would organize a revolt!
So I am left with few options, other than hoping this message will reach a social worker out there.
Hopefully, I will be able to communicate again, but in my weakened state, I could cross the Rainbow Bridge any day now. I am fading fast.
OH–there’s a mouse. Gotta go—-
Panther Speak 