I so look forward to the day when my book is able to grace the store shelves. I can picture it so clearly, row after row of my story waiting to be shared, but so far it hasn’t happened. Mommy has informed me that things don’t always happen as quickly as I would like in the outside world (frankly, things don’t happen fast enough for me in our home either, like my water being refilled).
In an effort to speed things along, I’ve decided to go on a hunger strike. I’m hoping it might create some urgency; urgency for Mommy to send out my manuscript to agents and publishers, and urgency for them to read it and to enjoy it. It’s a small price to pay to help move things along.
Hour One - Hmm, I feel a bit peckish already. Maybe I should have breakfast first, and then start the hunger strike. I think that sounds like a sensible plan - a light breakfast and then right to it.
Hour Two – Luckily I’m still full from breakfast. I decided I needed to really dig in, and lay a solid foundation for future hunger pains by empting my dish.
Hour Four – I had a nice nap. I checked with Mommy and there’s been no word. I feel bored now – a snack would sure be nice - but no, I’m standing firm.
Hour Five – I can’t stop staring at my dish. It’s like a magnetic pull, a gravitational force. I’m a moon to its planet and I long to be in its orbit again.
Hour Seven – I feel very cross now. Mommy was trying to console me with snuggles, and I took a little nip of her hand (ironically the hand that feeds me, under normal circumstances). She tasted so good, so solid, I gnawed her for a few moments, and feeling guilty - she even let me.
Hour Eight – It’s getting dark now - maybe it’s the starvation. Mommy said it’s my twilight – oh, no, Mommy says it is twilight, not my twilight. It’s so hard to stay focused.
Hour Eight and a Half - Mommy is growing concerned, maybe it’s my constant cries.
Hour Nine – I’ve had it. This is cruel and unusual punishment. I can’t be expected to starve for heaven’s sake. Oh, apparently that is the expectation, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be. Maybe I can go on a “Hungrier Strike”.
I’ll cut way back on my kibble and no treats at all (well, unless Daddy should drop some lunch meat). I think it’s a good compromise. If you read this, please publish my book, as I can’t live without tuna for long.