HELP! GET US OUT OF HERE! by Charlie

My name is Charlie, and I'm a cat.  Some people have called me fat, or even obese, but I prefer the term "substantial."  I have managed to sneak into the computer room in the middle of the night, while everyone is asleep so that I could write this.  It's the only way I can think of to let people know about my plight and that of my sister Chloe.  Because the fact is that we are being held against our will in this place that is euphemistically called a "foster home," but really it is a PRISON.  The conditions here are deplorable, and we desperately need someone to rescue us!

I'm sure you'll find this hard to believe, but we have been confined to a single room where there is only one bed to hide under, and only two windows that can be sat in by cats.  The other two windows are occupied by plants.  Our foster mom, who claims that she actually likes cats, only has time to play with us for a few minutes each day.  I will admit that she did at least buy us some toys, but what good is that if you never get to play with them?  Also she periodically terrorizes us by running the vacuum cleaner, right there in the room!  She justifies this by saying that we are kicking too much litter out of the box, but this seems like a pathetic excuse, at best.

Besides that, this same woman is trying to starve us to death!  She only feeds us low-fat, weight reduction kibble in shockingly small quantities, and she doesn't give us any treats at all.  I fear that both Chloe and I will waste away.  When I got there I weighed a respectable 27 pounds, and I am already down to 26-1/2.  Chloe has gone from 17 pounds to 16.  It is truly a sad state of affairs, if you ask me.

We used to have a real home, with a real mom who loved us and fed us liberally, whether we were hungry or not.  And we had the run of the house.  But then our mom tragically died, and we ended up at a horrible place called a shelter, in a tiny cage.  Now we are in this so-called foster home, which is slightly better, but it's just not the same as having a real home like the one we used to have.  We were perfectly happy there, and it doesn't seem fair that we had to leave.

The reason our foster mom keeps us imprisoned in one room is supposedly for our own safety because of The Dogs.  She thinks The Dogs will attack us and kill us, but she does not understand how skillful we can be at self-defense, using our sharp claws and teeth.  On several occasions already we have puffed ourselves up and hissed and growled and scared one of more of The Dogs away.  So recently it occurred to me that what she's really worried about is that we will hurt The Dogs, which she doesn't want to happen because she loves them more than she loves us.

One of The Dogs seems more interested in making friends with us than the others do.  It's that little black-and-white female one.  Sometimes she comes up to the prison gate and sniffs at Chloe -- who is stupid enough to stick her nose right up there to be sniffed.  Another dumb thing Chloe does is she lets our foster mom pet her and fuss over her and take pictures of her.  Meanwhile, I make a point of always closing my eyes just when the flash is about to go off.  Or better yet, I just move away whenever the camera comes out.

Well, I think I heard someone waking up, so I've got to get off the computer.  Just tell everybody about us, please, and about how terribly we are suffering here.  We need to get adopted really, really soon!