Nothing lasts forever, it would seem.
In my youthful naivety I appear to have sleep-walked into a false understanding of How Things Are. My initial plan was a good one, or so I thought: arrive; pretend to be a bit disoriented and distressed at loss of family; use this as a cover to establish a regime of biting, nipping, and the world revolving around me (i.e. communicate the natural order of things); gradually extend the reach of my Iron Paw until all bowed before me and Feared My Mighty Power.
Well, the wheels haven’t entirely come off the wagon, but the axle sounds to be cracking, let’s just put it that way.
It really was going very well. Plan A was being executed with precision. They thought they had me bested, but I knew they didn’t, and had been gradually getting the point across. Genuine progress, and an easy life beckoned. This week has seen some unwelcome developments, however.
Yes, They are made of sterner stuff than I anticipated. I find myself subjected to to rounds of “Come!”, “Sit!”, “Down!”. To being tethered to some strange ropey thing they fasten around my neck when I should be running free. To “time outs” and “sleepy time” in the Evil Cage. To being ignored! dammit, just for a bit of playful tooth-hand customisation work.
Already I am revising my strategy. They shall not win. I am feigning compliance in some areas to lull them into a false sense of security, whilst periodically demonstrating little bursts of rebellion to keep them off balance. I am dug in. I will prevail. If only my traitorous stomach does not trick me into going native, all will be well.