Log 3

Allow me first and foremost to apologize for my tardiness in updating my postings. Allow me secondly to introduce myself to the followers who have been caught in the world wide web of lies that is this blog. My name is Sofia Loren and I am the housecat of the Medusa that publishes this blog. I frequently post journalings of my pursuit to escape these confines, but have been on a small hiatus. Rest assured much has happened since I've last logged. Allow me to regale you:
I'll begin with the Christmas season. This has got to be the strangest time of year. I fail to recognize any occasion where trees should be kept inside. I was thrown at first by the foreign aroma but soon found it useful to practice my jungle climbing skills for when I return to the rainforests of South America. I was improving until Medusa sprayed me with a toxin that bittered my tastebuds to the core. I rebelled by removing all of the dangling objects from both trees (that's right, there were two). Littering the floor with these glass balls and sharp objects was all in an attempt to injure my captors, but my effors were to no avail. I decided that a better approach was to demonstrate my wrath and ferocity on an even more annoying Christmas chachki, a caroling frog, pictured above. (Panthers kill frogs in the rainforest, right?)

And now I must be vulnerable for a minute. Underneath my sleek, cunning, athletic exterior, there is fear. Only one, no room for two. That fear is the vacuum cleaner. Things go in and never come out. That is terrifying. As much as I want to escape, that seems like a torturous way to go. Today, Medusa performed surgery on the vacuum cleaner and the smell was horrific. I believe it was the smell of death and lost souls.

Moving on, I'm brought to the subject of jewelry making, one of Medusa's hobbies. How cruel is it to sit amongst small shiney objects and NOT be allowed to self-stimulate? (or play, as lesser intelligent beings might say). What is even crueler is being forced to wear such jewelry. A chain around the neck is the signature of captivity. Naturally, I made an effort to remove it with my mighty incisors. Howsoe'er, the chain was fit the perfect size so that my jaw was locked underneath the chain with my sharp tooth caught in the link! Medusa did not know how long I was like this, mouth open wide, throat drying, unable to speak, unable to look up. I could only walk and sit. Perhaps this was her evil plan to choke me into submission. Miraculously, she freed me. And I've been on high alert since then. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm lucky to be alive.

So on that note, I leave you with this advice: Do not wear Medusa's jewelry.