The insolent creature left has withheld my tortures, and it taunts me still with it's grinning. You would think after the many puncture wounds, slinging and wimble stench it would wain. But no. I tortured him until 4 am Friday, I believe it was close to breaking but the furless ones have given him exile in the drawers by the bed.
To show my disdain I announced the tortuing of the bug in the early hours of the morning. I was ignored. The furless mother told me to "play" with the bug as Auntie Sofie said the bug was on suicude watch after my obvious preference for the gingerbread man. I am not PLAYING. These creatures are being broken in. Evil Fred in New York understands. He has been covering the east coast.
Wizzle needs potty training. I have informed her it is polite to clean one's area after using the tray but the stinking furball still parades around with the occasional klinker. You see what I have to share a raidator bed with? Still I have gleaned some little victories. I have shredded the furless mothers ribbons on her bath robe and stole the furless father's naan bread last night, Mwwwahhh!