Whatta Ya in Fer?

So, here I am behind bars.  No one here is happy. One square a day and no affection.  They slide a dish through a slot in the bars and scrap away anything I might extrude. 

 

The cat next door is in for biting a baby.  Rough, that.  What a dunce the feline is for taking it’s frustration out on a freshly hatched human.  Even I, with little direct knowledge of such a creature, can glean that to bite a small child is the highest offense.

The cat’s mouth is swabbed twice a day.  It spits its way through the deed then chomps onto the stick as though it’s mouse flesh, and growls its way from lunacy to a better mood. 

It’s been here longer than I and I wonder if I’ll end up the same way: mad at the world, or simply mad, period.

Chow.