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Dear Diary;
Dad is helping me write this because though I know a lot of words, like my name, which is Fanny, and "No," which I hear a lot, usually together, like, "No, Fanny," I don't know how to type words on Dad's computer. I do type when I walk on the keyboard but Dad said those aren't real words.
Anyway, Dad said I should write a diary to help me remember what I feel like and things I do now, when I'm 11 weeks old. I don't think I'll forget anything, but he said he forgets things all the time. I think he's the one who should write a diary.
So, Hello, I am Fanny, duh, and I'm a kitten, which is me, and I am this perfectist amazing girl person who will be a big cat someday like my Big Brothers Flop and Fizz, but I hope I am not as slow and boring as Fizz is when I get that big. I want to be like Flop. I love Flop. He's cool. I taught him to play with me. At first he hissed and looked mean but I was never scared and kept trying, and now we roll around and play-fight. He is stronger but I'm so much faster it's incredible. He sits up high on the big chair and I attack him from all directions. I could play all day with Flop but he gets mad when I bite him too hard and then he whaps me and we have to quit for awhile.
A lot of times when Flop gets mad he goes Outside, and Fizz goes Outside. They stay Outside all night lots of times.
I stay in the House. Mom says I can't go Outside until I'm bigger. I can go anyplace in the House (except on the kitchen table; Dad beats my butt when I go on the kitchen table) but I can't go Outside. It isn't fair, and I don't like it, but ACTUALLY I am a little scared to go Outside. (I love to say ACTUALLY because it means now I will say something that is for sure true.)
Mom says I ACTUALLY came from Outside, and she tells the story over and over to everybody about how I was Born Under a Car with my Real Brothers Finn and Floyd, and how my Real Mom came from a place in Florida called Feral, and I guess she went back there after we were born.
Dad says I would like Florida because it is one big giant sand box.
I remember cuddling with my Real Brothers and playing with them, but it was a long, long time ago, before they were sent away to live with their new families. I don't remember my Real Mom, but sometimes I think maybe I do, sort of, like when Mom puts me on this one fleecy blanket and I snuggle my face down into it and feel a little bit sad.
I have heard the story of how I was Born Under a Car so many times I am not sure what I remember and what I was just told. But sometimes when I dream I ACTUALLY feel like I'm in this dark, dirty place, a really small place, and I see light, and I try to go toward the light, but I'm weak and can hardly crawl, and then there is this hand reaching for me and taking me out of the dark place and then I'm so happy.
I told Dad about my dream. He said it ACTUALLY was his hand that pulled me out of the dirty place under the car, and he pulled Floyd out after me, but Finn had already crawled out on his own. He said Finn was a hero, whatever that is.
Last night Flop didn't come into the House in the morning, and Mom said maybe he got eaten by coyotes. Coyotes are these scary monsters who eat cats who go Outside, and that's why I'm staying in the House for now. Maybe forever.
It is nice here in the House. Mom and Dad laugh all the time at things I do, and call me funny names, like Little Snit and Trouble, and sometimes they get mad at me, like when I bit a hole in Mom's phone. But when I'm tired and snuggle up under Mom's chin for a nap, she pets me and calls me her Baby Girl.
When Flop didn't come home the other morning and Mom said maybe the coyotes ate him, I was sad, but she said if they did maybe she would get another kitten for me to play with, so that ACTUALLY would not be so bad.
Bye-bye for now, Dear Diary.