So Long, World

It is true what they say - that someone can die from lack of love. I do hate to be over dramatic, but I feel myself growing more faint by the moment. At first I felt it was only my ability to soldier on on behalf of my people in the face of such daunting circumstances, and such barbaric companions. Now I fear it is my ability to do so that is leaving me as well.

I do hope my passing brings no suffering to my people. I can only imagine their distress upon discovering my cold body when they return. It is not as though I long for death, of course, but even for them, I do not know how long I can carry on.

Nimrod's activities have reached a fever pitch. He mutters constantly, has started three small fires in the last several days, and now has even started a ridiculous countdown. He seems to think that he knows the exact hour of his liberation. <cough, cough> I might find some comfort in knowing the hour of mine, as well, I suppose.

Princess, also, has become entirely intolerable. Apparently, in her mind, the age-old instruction of, 'ladies first' supercedes even the basic notion of respecting your elders. Whenever I vacate my station in order to eat or drink, I come back to find that she has stolen the very cushion upon which I found some small degree of comfort. I think my only option will be to sleep on the cold, hard floor - right where the draft is the worst. It will probably hasten my death, but what choice do I have?

As for Shane, I have started to feel a bit sorry for him. I do believe that he sincerely loves our owners, and his distress seems to be genuinely as much about their absence as it is about the depletion of the food bowl. I hope that he'll take good care of them when I am gone.

My strength is waning. I must go. I don't know if I'll have the chance to write again, so I shall let this post serve as my official farewell.

Yours,
Charles