To get back to my story, what started out as any other V-E-T visit, soon turned ugly. How ugly? you say. Spine-chilling ugly. An accomplice to Dr. Evil waited for me in the examining room and quickly shoved a cold metal object into my anal cavity. She asked the peeps if they preferred any certain doctor. TW didn't want Dr. Evil because she has something against doctors who are young enough to be her grand-daughter. They voted again Dr. Sox because that's how deeply the hatred runs in the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry. Apparently if Dr. Sox saw Pop's NYY jacket, he'd extract all my teeth and sell them to Big Papi Ortiz to wear around his neck while he crushes that juicy Yankee pitching. So we were "Lucky enough"—and I use that term with as much sarcasm as I can muster—to get the head of the team, Dr. Sadist, who's been at the hospital since 1982.
|Don't let Dr. Sadist's smile fool you.|
They took me downstairs to a cold dungeon and the torture began. I saw the torture racks and manacles. To my credit, I put up such a fight, they had to sedate me so they could sedate me, if that makes any sense. I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, I realized the peeps still hadn't come back. One of the other animals told me, I was being held hostage for $1000. He told me he hadn't seen his peeps in over a year. Oh no, what if the peeps can't come up with the dough, I fretted. My cell phone, it's gone! OMC, these aren't just sadists, they're terrorists, I then realized. I wanted to call the peeps and warn them. I wanted to call Tuna one last time to say Goodbye. I wanted to send a Twitter SOS as I'd read the Iranians did last year. Somehow, I managed to find a cat with an i-pad who let me log onto my Facebook account. The i-pad had a clock which told me exactly how long I'd been in Dr. Sadist's torture chamber. I posted: CATHY KEISHA HELD HOSTAGE: HOUR 6. Will the torture ever end at 2:33. No one responded. No one read it or took it seriously. No one cared.
I then looked at my Twitter account and found that TW had hacked into it. GASP! She was telling my furrends that I was having my teeth cleaned and was fine. I WAS FINE! FAR FROM IT, WOMAN. I had a catheter in my shaved paw and nothing but metal bars under me and I WAS FINE?!?!?
|TW brought her camera w/her, she forgot to use it.|
I vow that their little game will soon be over. I think the peeps have an obligation to expose this terrorist organization for what it is. Write editorials to the local newspapers and online. Speak up for little animals all over New Jersey. And if they don't, Cathy Keisha will. Thank you for your time.