Day twelve of my incarceration:
I was returned to the place that smells like dog yesterday, this journey had the possibility to be fraught with danger, as the elder teenager was wishing to control the vehicle for the journey. She has just acquired a piece of plastic they call a 'learners' which seems to give the holder the delusion that they can handle a vehicle in the same manner as the late Sterling Moss, or Ken Block. Despite the vehicle having what is termed an 'automatic gear box', she seems capable of making it hop down the road like an inebriated kangaroo. I vociferously opposed that she be able to control the vehicle and cause me more stress and injury, gratefully my concerns were felt to be valid and she was denied this opportunity.
I now have another green bandage, that is lower down my leg, but has large amounts of annoying white fluff around the top in an effort to stop something they call 'chafing'.
I have been making a concerted effort to cultivate a more pitiful look by making my eyes wider and keeping my mouth shut.
Despite the colour of the drapery around my cage Jennifer, I do not think that purple is a colour that will show my gracious ginger fur to it's best advantage. The lady at the place that smells like dog did however, mention knitting, but I doubt it was in the context of attire.