S.O.S.

This is Charles. Please - if anyone out there knows how to contact the people who live here, will you let them know that conditions have become intolerable? I'm sure they would halt whatever travel plans they may have in order to come to my aid.

I can't sleep with all the noise of Nimrod's various contraptions and schemes. It was one thing when he tripped a circuit breaker and we were in the darkness for 45 minutes until he could figure out how to reach the box and reset it. But, I'm truly afraid that the green cloud of chemical gas that was created last night when Princess "accidentally" knocked over a beaker of hydrochloric acid is hazardous for our health.

I can't eat, either, since Shane has now regressed from simply sleeping near the food bowls, to actually sleeping in them. Even if I managed to grab a morsel of food when he wanders off to howl piteously and stick his paw under the door, it would be so full of hair that it would be inedible.

I will not even comment about the litter box situation. Needless to say, for one as fastidious as myself, it is torture.

I don't know how much longer I can take these brutal conditions.

Dejectedly,
Charles