Yesterday evening I was sleeping under the bed when I heard the sweet sound of Kitty howling. I dashed to the top of the stairs. There she was in the middle of the living room – pinned to the ground, yelling and howling. I leaped down the stairs and charged. “I’ll help! I’ll help! Let’s git her!” I pulled my lips back so that my sharp teeth would be the first thing to meet her soft flesh. To my surprise my teeth didn’t meet soft Kitty flesh, but the hard rubber of a tennis shoe. I circled and attacked again. More rubber. (They are wise to not expose flesh when I am trying to help torture Kitty.) I darted one way and then quickly back the other way to try to get around the shoe. I leaped in the air and then ran at her again. There seems to be no way around the shoe. Why can’t I help?

“No Miss Bunny, we’re not torturing Kitty – we’re cleaning her ears.”

Sheesh. This place is no fun at all. Some days I wish I’d never been rescued.