Dad, I can’t believe you had the vet do this to me.
I hate you so much right now. Or, I would if I wasn’t so woozy from that stuff the vet gave me. What did she call it? Opiates? Why are there all these colors floating around?
When I feel better dad, you are in so much trouble. And don’t even THINK about trying to syringe feed me again. I’ll eat when I’m good and ready – understand?
Woah. I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.