It didn't work for Harold either.

Although I was quite pleased that the One Who Types finally acknowledged that I am special and, thus, deserve my own fancy food, I must admit that I am highly disappointed in the lack of variety I am given. While my minions are presented with various flavors each day, I receive the same meal day in and day out.

In addition, the One Who Types frequently informs me that she is too busy to take dictation for my blog. I've seen other blogs, and their composers manage to get their minions to type their entries regularly - sometimes even daily. This leads me to the conclusion that the One Who Types is obviously pretending to be busy solely to vex me.

In protest to these deplorable conditions, I spent much of the evening yesterday sprawled out on the living room floor, motionless as if dead.

I expected the One Who Types to see me and fly into a panic at the thought of her beloved sovereign expiring from neglect. Instead, she took pictures of me.

Also, Clara and Nick are giggling about something upstairs, and I am certain they are up to no good.