Today I realized that Max’s food tastes a lot better than my food. I’m pretty sure my parents put me on a diet because I can’t make the leap up onto the food counter anymore. It’s a tough jump! I don’t know why they put it up there! Anyway, these new kibbles just taste dry, I can’t even taste the slightest hint of chicken anymore.
Why does the old cat get this gourmet stuff that tastes almost as good as a chopped up steak? It’s not like he’s the skinniest one in the house! My parents don’t let me eat it and they yell at me every time I try, but the geezer ALWAYS leaves leftovers. “I’ll come back for it later!” He always says. Then he’ll mosey around watching to make sure I don’t take any. Eventually he forgets about it and dozes off into his drooly-roadkill slumber. That’s when I finally get the meal I deserve. The good stuff.
The dog is onto it too though. I caught him watching me eat it the other day in a spare moment when Dad was fixing something angrily on the computer. He knows it’s good. But it’s a lot easier to catch him than me. I’m fat, but he’s a giant.
I must figure out new ways to get my parents distracted but still focused on the dog. If they’re worried about him, they won’t notice me sneaking by at their feet and indulging in my second round of dinner. Or breakfast. Whichever meal Max doesn’t finish.
Jasper is a disgruntled 6-year-old cat who lives in the suburbs of Minnesota with his two human parents. He’s the king of his domain and is easily upset by a disruption in order. He rules over two other animals: an 18-year-old cat named Max and a 13-year-old dog named Buddy. With the majority of his household winding down into retirement, Jasper keeps things interesting while lamenting his disdain and annoyance for his housemates in his private diary.