written by Crystal (sea monkey)


I have decided to keep this journal of my day-to-day activities, perhaps for future generations (over 300 eggs erupted from Mother's abdomen just this morning!) to enjoy; or perhaps just to keep from going crazy in this glass and water hell that is my home. 

The mere task of writing here is next to impossible. First of all, the paper keeps getting soggy. (Thus creating a double-meaning for "waterlog"?) 

Second, of course, is I have no brain, but rather mere ganglia; that is, groupings of nerves that send out messages telling my body eat or swim or, in my case, keep a journal. 

Something tells me I lucked out in the ganglia department. Well, I guess that's all for today. 

Oh, Kitty, I have so much to say! I don't want to be just another branchiopod, chasing the beam of some flashlight! ---- 

Dear Waterlog, It's so hard to think of things to write about. Probably partly because my brain is in my abdomen. Since I wrote two weeks ago, nearly one-tenth of my life expectancy has passed. I guess I need to write faster if I hope to develop a body of work. 

And speaking of developing bodies! I am eight times bigger now! Mother said it looked like I had grown a foot and I told her we have a spine with filtrating ventricles, but no feet. She said it was a figure of speech and I said we used the metric system anyway, and she told me to watch my smart mouth, which I can, thanks to my extended eyes, and I told her to stop bossing me, she wasn't the Queen, and she reminded me that she is the Queen, and that I was now grounded. Big whoop I thought. Grounded from what? Looking out of the mason jar? Swimming in never-ending circles? Observing my own digestion through my semi-transparent body?  

But she meant grounded. On the ground. So, as I write this, dear Waterlog, I am floundering on the tiny plastic island, gasping for oxygen. At least it keeps the paper dry. I'll let you know how it turns out.

written by Papa don't Preach (horse)

Hello, ladies. How are you all today? 

We all know why Iʼm here. I believe the word is stud but I imagine you figured that out when you saw me walk in, am I right? Man, they said thereʼd be mares in here but they didnʼt say anything about foxes. Damn! 

Maybe youʼve heard of me, "Papa Donʼt Preach"? Iʼve been kickinʼ around the big tracks a few years now. Made some folks a few duckets here and there - won a few, placed a few, had a lot of shows... You know what Iʼm sayinʼ. Apparently someone likes the makeup inside this smooth, brown coat because, well, here I am baby. 

So here we are, face to face with nothing but horseshoes. Ohhh yeahh. Let me go get a robe and some hay and Iʼll be right back to get this thing started. By the way, even through weʼre working for The Man thereʼs no rule against enjoying ourselves. 

Papa Donʼt Preach is here, ladies. Itʼs time to party. 

written by Lucky (cat)

In the interests of science, the author has chosen to eat nothing but Whiskas Temptations for 30 straight days and chronicle the effects on my body and well- being. 

The rules are as follows: 
1) He will only eat Whiskas Temptations cat treats. 
2) He will eat as many treats as the woman who feeds me offers. 
3) He will try each flavor of Whiskas Temptations at least once. 

DAY 7 
I'm eating between four to seven times a day. It depends how many times I feel like going to the cupboard and screaming. The woman who feeds me doesnʼt seem to grasp that this is a scientific experiment and not just me being finicky. 

Sheʼs not very bright. When she finally did absorb the parameters of this diet (I only eat Whiskas Tempations, nothing else), she tried just pouring a pile of their Seafood Medley in my bowl. It took almost three hours of whining before she figured out that cat treats donʼt get eaten unless theyʼre fed individually, by hand. Itʼs not about the food as much as about the power trip of ordering somebody less intelligent than you to cater to your whims. 

Anyway, I donʼt know what they put into these babies but Man, they are good. In fact, I might just go get some more right now. 

DAY 14 
The woman who feeds me has taken to calling me Tummy Tummy Wumpkins. Okay, I admit Iʼve gained a few ounces-- Fine. Pounds. But I feel fantastic. Iʼve got energy. LOTS of energy. I donʼt sleep much but Iʼm not missing it, yʼknow? Iʼm feeling good. Really...fantastic. 

I have a new cardio thing Iʼm addicted to: I start in one room, then, without picking a destination, leave the room as quickly as possible. Once Iʼve accelerated to top speed, I turn quickly into the first opening I see. Then, as soon as Iʼm in whatever the new space is, I sprint clockwise around the perimeter two-and-a-half times, stop, bathe for eight seconds, and then sprint counter-clockwise. Thatʼs it. I do at least three circuits like that in the morning and five in the evening. Itʼs weird - youʼd think Iʼd be getting faster but each day my time seems to get longer. 

Iʼve also found no matter how much I bathe myself, my coat seems to smell of motor oil. My trips to the box seem less frequent. Mostly number one. It burns a little and smells like sulfur but that passes before Iʼm done scraping litter over the edge of the box. My coat has seen shinier days, thatʼs for sure. Youʼd think something that smells so much of motor oil wouldnʼt be so dry. 

Iʼve also noticed a couple of missing tufts near the base of my tail. Might be related to the itching Iʼve been experiencing... Wait. Iʼm sorry. I lost track of what I was saying. My favorite favor is Liver & Beef Medley. I get hungry just saying the name. I feel like eating again. 

DAY 21
My trips to the box seem less frequent. Mostly number one. It burns a little and smells like sulfur but that passes before Iʼm done scraping litter over the edge of the box. My coat has seen shinier days, thatʼs for sure. Youʼd think something that smells so much of motor oil wouldnʼt be so dry. Iʼve also noticed a couple of missing tufts near the base of my tail. Might be related to the itching Iʼve been experiencing... Wait. Iʼm sorry. I lost track of what I was saying. My favorite favor is Liver & Beef Medley. I get hungry just saying the name. I feel like eating again. 

DAY 30 
It's over!  Thirty days of eating nothing but Whiskas Temptations. I have to admit, it hasnʼt been so hard. In fact, I could see continuing to eat them. The only real tough patch were the five days in a row that my only choices were Savory Salmon or Hairball Control. That was a living hell. As you know, I hate Salmon. It sucks when you want to puke and half of what youʼve been eating is anti-nausea medication. Also when my vet looked at my blood work and said Itʼs hard to believe anything with sodium levels this high is still alive. Not something you say in front of a cat who now has chest pains and shortness of breath. Talk about bedside manner! 

And the weight thing, of course. Iʼm not thrilled about that. When I began this experiment, I weighed ten pounds, three ounces. I now tip the scale at seventeen point two and no longer fit under the sofa. Hell, I barely make it under the coffee table. Plus my litterbox is no longer a source of comfort and relief. Itʼs now just a place I try to squeeze a tennis ball down a garden hose. Iʼve also lost interest in bathing, purring and clawing expensive furniture. 

Aside from those minor annoyances though-- Hold on. I hear the rustling in the pouch. Oh boy! I hope itʼs Liver & Beef Medley...

written by Mr. Hugo (elephant)

So I hear you wanna join the circus, huh kid? 

Let me give you some advice - donʼt. Life in under the Big Top ainʼt all fresh hay and peanuts.I used to be like you - bright-eyed, full of hope. I too listened when the circus recruiters came and talked about waking up each day in a new town and nights spent in front of cheering crowds. What the recruiters forget to mention are the 23 hours between shows.Itʼs lonely, for starters. Youʼre on the road nine months a year. 

Think youʼre gonna meet some great gal at a local zoo? One willing to drop everything and follow you cross-country as a circus groupie? Oh, please! Let me tell you how your nights are gonna be spent - alone, in the mess tent playing cards with me, some midgets and the union drivers.And by the way? The tents stink. Ever see a washing machine big enough to hold a circus tent?-- Oh Hell, why am I even wasting my breath? Youʼre gonna do what you want. Mark my words though, five years from now youʼre gonna be standing backstage before showtime, the guy coming up behind you with the stick and youʼre gonna think, I shouldʼve listened to the old geezer. I shouldʼve never joined the circus. 

But by then itʼll be too late. Check out Monster.com. See any job offerings for middle-aged elephants?The circus is no life, kid. Once youʼre in it, you never get out. Itʼs like porn. There. I said my peace. 

Now get outta here and leave me alone.

written by Marc (Zebra)

Being a zebra, I found Mr. Obamaʼs "race speech" to be exactly what this country needed to hear. Things are rarely black and white (except me, of course.) The very definitions of who is black and who is white aren't even black and white. Consider this: black people are not actually black (theyʼre shades of brown) but the term brown is reserved for people of Hispanic heritage. Meanwhile whites are not actually white (theyʼre flesh-colored) yet the infamous flesh-eating disease attacks all skin colors equally. It's very confusing.


For these reasons I believe itʼs time Americans took a page from both Mr. Obama and the Disease playbook and ignored skin color altogether. Am I white with black stripes or am I black with white stripes? What difference does it make? As Mr. Obama so elegantly pointed out in this speech, these definitions are old- fashioned and petty. Whatever the label, Iʼm the same animal on the inside. Weʼre ALL the same. A goat and a whitefish may LOOK different but inside there IS no difference. (Except that one is a warm-blooded mammal while the other has gills but letʼs not let semantics and pigeon-holing definitions throw us off track.) 

Senator Obama's basic message is that we have to start looking beyond color. This is exactly the same sentiment that Paul McCarthy wrote in his song EBONY AND IVORY -- the black keys and the white keys need each other and there can be harmony as long as the black keys stay in their place. Iʼm paraphrasing. (By the way, kudos to Mr. McCarthy for not cow-towing to political correctness by putting black players into The Beatles simply because beatles are black insects.) The next time we hear the phrase, "Thatʼs a horse of a different color," let's follow Mr. Obamaʼs advice and say, "So what? Color is on the outside but inside, where it counts, all horses are the same." (Except sea horses, which have an external exoskeleton and donʼt poop grass clumps the size of tennis balls.) 

I could go on but I think Iʼve made my point.

written by Donald Whitetail (deer)

Animals have a hard time using high-end mobile phones. I know because I’m a deer and I’ve owned them all: the Sony Ericsson W810i, the Motorola Q, Samsung’s BlackJack... All nice to look at yet unusable by those of us without fingers. That’s why I’m excited about the new iPhone. By replacing the copious buttons found on other phones with a large touch screen, Apple has created a device that can be operated by the entire land-dwelling animal kingdom.

"But animals can’t talk," I hear you humans saying. "Why would they want a cell phone?" The answer - text messaging. Being able to quickly send messages over long distances will allow us to do things we"re already doing better. Hunt and protect ourselves, for starters. Animals have wanted to text message for ions but, until now, using a phone required pushing tiny buttons or negotiating a stylus. Ever try holding a stylus with a hoof? Thanks to Apple, animals are no longer locked out of this paradigm shifting technology.

The iPhone has almost everything a deer would require. The most impressive details being good battery life (there are few electrical outlets in the forest) and a fast data connection. True, the phone uses EDGE which is not a full 3G network, but that should be fast enough for now since most animals don’t yet deal with large graphic files. For those times where a bigger data pipe IS required, the iPhone can switch over to a WiFi network. With Starbuck’s recent announcement that they’re running out of street corners and will soon start opening outlets in the middle of deserts and forests, a T-Mobile Hotspot should soon be accessible in every square foot of the wilderness. It’s amazing how things fall into place, isn’t it?

One feature I am personally looking forward to is iPhone"s access to YouTube videos. Until now, my television viewing has been via the store window of Ace Appliance which means I’m at the mercy of the guy who closes up for the evening. Whatever random channel he leaves the display TVs tuned to is it for the evening. Sometimes I get lucky and get to watch Animal Planet. Other times I"m stuck with the Fox News Channel. With the ability to stream YouTube videos direct to the iPhone, I’ll finally be in control of my nocturnal entertainment. (Goodbye O’Reilly Factor, Hello Andy Kindler and reruns of The Pet Shop. I also like the animal clips on America’s Funniest Home Videos. The old ones with Bob Saget were the best. Whatever happened to him? I heard he started working blue.)

There seems to be only one thing missing from the iPhone - a camera. My uncle"s life was cut short a few years ago in an area clearly marked by No Hunting signs. A camera would have come in handy because without a photo of the crime scene it"s the hunter’s word against ours. As far as an animal"s requirements, the lack of a camera is a glaring omission. The other negative is price. With the exception of animals working in the high-paying entertainment and hauling industries, most of us don’t have $600 just laying around. It takes a long time to collect that much in dropped coins along the highway. But you can’t fault Apple for charging what they can. They’re in it to make a profilt, and to create paradigm shifting technologies doesn’t come cheap.

First the Macintosh then the iPod and now the iPhone. Once again, Apple has managed to expand a market by creating a device “For the rest of us.”

written by Douglas (owl)

I am bulimic. I am not proud of this but I feel that I need to openly admit it to help myself and for the betterment of owls everywhere. Iʼm not sure how it started and I am not pointing any wings. It could have been the pressures of our society to stay thin. Or maybe it was always being called the ʻfat birdʼ of the parliament...I donʼt know.

Last week I caught my reflection in the pond and I hated it. In fact, I was disgusted by it. When did that healthy, strong, Great Horned Owl turn into this pathetic pigeon-looking thing (no offense, pigeon friends)? My plumage was thinning, my eyes were vacant, and heck, I can barely muster enough strength to hold a field mouse in my beak (no offense to field mice). Want proof that I hit rock bottom? I started sleeping at night!

Look, I know sticking talons down my beak is wrong, but I canʼt help myself. If I eat a frog, rodent, or snake I want to keep it down. Out of respect. I donʼt want to waste you. So, please, if any of you have some advice I would really appreciate it.

written by Alberto (eagle)

I've been the national symbol for 217 years. During that time weʼve climbed from musket-wielding colonists to the worldʼs only remaining superpower. Itʼs been a good run. Flawed as we may be at times, this nation is still THE beacon for freedom in the world and Iʼm proud to have been a part of it.

But now itʼs time to let some other animal takeover emblem duties. Consider this my two week notice. This has nothing to do with politics. This isnʼt about the war or anything like that. The simple fact is Iʼm not getting any younger. Iʼve been through an industrial revolution and two world wars. Iʼm tired. I want to do some traveling and spend more time with the grandchicks while I still can.

There are a lot of animals that could easily take my place. The condor might be nice - big, native to the country... Or maybe the turkey. You know, back when they picked me, Ben Franklin was considering the turkey. Also the buffalo. I bet either one of them would be thrilled to finally get a chance at bat.

Donʼt worry, Iʼll stick around until they find someone new. And itʼs not like Iʼm gonna disappear altogether. Iʼll still pop up here and there. Iʼll be like Walter Cronkite. But with less white on my head.

written by Fred Kipster (mouse)

For years I worked for GlaxoSmithKline in their research division. When it was discovered I had developed liver cancer, I figured the gig was up. I assumed theyʼd give me a small severance and send me home to “get my affairs in order.” Boy, was I wrong!

The caring folks at GlaxoSmithKline set up a research lab, hired the top scientists in the world and poured tens (maybe hundreds!) of millions of dollars into finding a cure. For me! And they did it knowing full well thereʼs no way Iʼll ever be able to pay them back. That, my friends, is called taking care of your employees.

Granted, I got the cancer from them in the first place but why point fingers? Hey, mistakes happen. You store the Thorium pellets next to the mouse food... Lesson learned. The point is, management at GlaxoSmithKline took responsibility. When it became clear no other company had a cure for liver cancer, they dug in and worked to find a cure themselves. They decided that money is not the most important thing. The most important thing is fixing what you break.

Say what you want about corporations being soulless. This one saved my life.

written by  Slitterman (fish)