Through Gizmo's Eyes (or at least a humans imagination of Gizmo's Eyes)
So many people walk in and out.
So many faces. Some came to feed me, some came to play, others stared or looked away.
After a week on death row I didn't even go to the cell door anymore. The others clambered over each other to lick or chew fingers, trying to please jailers, or possible rescuers. I just sat and observed. I didn't like this cold place. Cement, metal and it was always full of strangers. Funny smells and never enough food.
Why am I here? 5 weeks old, stolen from my mother. My brothers and sisters disappear one by one. I don't even know what to do anymore.... I want my mum. Maybe if I curl up and go to sleep I will wake up from this nightmare.