A Dispatch from the Captive

Is this thing on?

Hello? Hello. Is there anybody there?

Hello, help me. I'm being held captive by the enemy. I need your assistance so I can resume my plan for world domination, as this is the goal of all of my race.

I need to introduce myself properly. Following the rules set out by TS Eliot, Philosopher General of Our Race, I have three names. Officially, I am known to others in my race as Her Royal Highness, Princess Hephzibah Jonquil Hortensia Murgatroyd-Ross. A regal and dignified name, you will agree. My captors have taken a shot of me to demonstrate my undeniable beauty and poise:

My captors also have the audacity call me Miffy. Miffy Ross. Oh, the indignity! I was named by the second youngest of my regular captors. He seems to think that I am half worthy of reverence.

Oh, for heavens sake - how can you run the world with a name like Miffy? Miffy is a Dutch cartoon rabbit, not a creature worthy of running the planet. Mind you, those who choose to keep my race in captivity have the tendency to find degrading names for my friends and fellow race members. Names like Tibbles, Toe Rag, Fluffy, Pussy, Maow Maow, Twinkles - names given to 1950's strippers, not the name of an intelligent, sociopathic, world leader such as myself. Surely names like God, Thor, Zeus or Despot would be far better suited to me and my compatriots.

I also don't come to the names of "Puss, puss, puss", Kitty, kitty, kitty," or "Fur encrusted house demon." "Your Royal Highness" is how I'm supposed to be addressed - not that my captors acknowledge this.

Currently, I am being held captive, jailed in a place that is not my own. It's an alternative prison - not like my normal one, where I have a bit more scope to roam. The normal captors let me out to into the garden and appear to be pleased, indeed grateful, when I turn up for dinner. I can smell that others of my kind have been help captive at this new prison before. I wonder how they have coped? I made my displeasure felt by marking my territory in the bathroom sink. My new captor, though annoyed, just got out the disinfectant and said that she's been warned about that small habit of mine.

For a prison, this place isn't too bad, really. My jailer talks to me incessantly, which is good, it keeps me awake to plot her undeniable and forthcoming downfall. She massages my back regularly, as is required - although she takes great delight in tossing me over onto my back to try to massage my belly. I'm not sure if I like this. Oh the indignity of the movement. Next think you know she'll shove me in a bucket of water. My captor bathes regularly - strange creature. How can she tolerate all that water? I always watch her when she bathes - hoping the nasty water will make her disintegrate. Well, here's hoping.

There isn't that much to do here. As I learn from osmosis I tired to get on with my jailer's reading material.

What I'm going to learn from the dictionary, an anatomy colouring book, the book of what your birthday means, an illustrated book of essential oils and The Teachings of the Buddha, pilfered from a Bangkok hotel I will never know. My reading spans more to "Thus Spake Zarathustra", "Mein Kampf" and "The Origin of Species." The captor, has, at least, some interesting titles for her picture box. Every episode of Six Feet Under and a recording of Fight Club. Maybe this captor has a bit more kudos than I thought.

Most distressing, my new captor doesn't have any feeling for my personal comfort. Every time she walks into the feeding room, I demand to be fed, as is required. My jailer has the audacity to laugh at me. I am fed some desiccated pellets and water morning and night - that is all. This is not how I am supposed to be fed! Where is the raw chicken and fish? Where is the cheese? What sort of diet is "pussy flowers" as my captor calls them. Phah! There will be punishment for this inhumanity. There should be more decadent libations made to my kind. Don't the captors know this?!

At least this jailer allows me personal comfort for me to do my best work - which is done when I sleep.

I also try and keep fit, now that I'm in captivity. There are plenty of things to chew on, climb up, toy with or mangle. The latter appears to annoy my jailer. The other day she was trying to place some sleeping utensils in a plastic bag, attaching the bag to an air sucker. I saw no reason for her to do this and sunk my claws and teeth into the bag. Needless to say, my jailer was not amused. Something about destroying a space bag was mentioned. I was laughing loudly on the inside.

My favorite thing to do at this godforsaken jail is toy with my jailers comfort possessions. She calls it a knee brace - I call it fun. I've taken to carting this so called "knee brace" with me around the jail. She calls it a knee brace. I call it a child substitute. My jailer calls me a "strange animal" when I do this. Doesn't she know that royalty all have their foibles. It's expected.

My captor has said that there is only a week to go and that she will miss me when I am returned to my regular jail. I don't know why she will do this. I'm sure she will find another one of my kind to imprison at some stage. It appears it is what she does.

Ho hum. If you are hearing this, please help me escape. I need to begin my cunning plot for world domination and there is no way I can do this here. If you help me get out of here, I promise to be merciful when I take over the world.

Yours regally,

Her Royal Highness, Princess Hephzibah Jonquil Hortensia Murgatroyd-Ross

(A.K.A Miffy to the jailing race)