Aristotle is decidedly miserable. He says he’s finding it hard sleeping wearing the cone and that really isn’t helping. He’s just lying there looking forlorn and miserable. Mum has set up a camera so she can check on him when she’s not in there. She can talk to him through it too, but that only freaks him out. He said if he’d got a piece of chalk and a solid wall he’d be marking off the days.
His leg is bleeding too. He says it’s hurting more. Mum told him that’s what happens if you try to remove your own stitches. Secretly she is quite concerned. The vet says Mum doesn’t need to worry, but today I think she may be taking him to have his dressing changed.
His new crate is worrying me. It has a much more clever door lock than mine. I am worrying that Mum might replace my crate with a similar one. If she does I’m going to have to work out a different two stage process to escape. I’m never going to admit defeat so I’m sure I’d be able to do it… eventually.
I’m failing in my duties. Mum saw a pigeon pecking away at her vegetable trough. She suspects it may be after the seeds she’s planted. It was much easier to scare them off while the weather was good and the back door open. Now I just have to wave at them through the window and that doesn’t seem to be working. I need to be in a position to take direct action. The forecast isn’t good for the whole of the next week. At this rate the seeds will all have been eaten by the time I get chance to catch the pigeon unawares.
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