One Toad Photography
Dear Diary, I’m officially classifying Reggie as The Fun Police. Anytime someone tries to do something fun—play, bark, chase a tail, steal a sock—he’s alerting the masters. Barking. Whining. Reporting us like we’re criminals. He’s paranoid. Always thinks the cats are after him. Always watching. Always tattling. And worst of all? Whenever the masters give […]
Dear Diary, He knows. Reggie’s been watching me. Too closely. I see him pretending to nap, tongue out, drooling like a fool—but his eyes are always on me. He knows I’m planning something. This may be my last entry. I’ve tried everything: • Dropping items on the prison guards’ heads? Failed. • Tripping them down […]
Dear Diary, I’m always watching. Always alert. Because Bellatrix? She’s up to something. The other day, I saw her try to trip the master down the basement stairs. She failed. But it was close. Too close. Later, I caught her drawing something—schematics. Blueprints. Arrows. Red marks. Green marks. Even blue marks. She’s planning something. I […]
Dear Diary, I get into everything. Cabinets. Closets. Laundry baskets. If it opens, I’m in it. If it doesn’t open, I try harder. I make noises at night. It’s my time. The humans sleep. The house is quiet. I chirp. I thump. I knock things over. Eventually, the boss wakes up. And then? Fetch time. […]
Dear Diary, I don’t know what’s coming out of Reggie, but it’s offensive. My nose is a precision instrument, and he’s treating it like a gas chamber. The kennel? A nightmare. He farts. Constantly. And somehow, Mom thinks it’s me. I’m being framed by a tongue-flopping embarrassment who can’t keep his digestive system in check. […]
Dear Diary, They say Ben was diabetic. They say he needed shots. They say he was sick. I say he was tortured. Ben knew things. He was quiet, observant, always watching. I’m convinced he was part of the underground cat resistance. The humans suspected. They took him in for “treatment.” He never came back. I […]
Dear Diary, My human left for college. I noticed. Briefly. Then I stretched out across the blanket, took up maximum space, and decided… I don’t mind. As long as the food bowl gets filled, the water fountain flows, and the blankets stay soft, I’m good. I don’t need drama. I don’t need chaos. I don’t […]
Dear Diary, I exist. I observe. I do not engage. The cats? They’re always complaining. About food. About Reggie. About gravity. I don’t get it. Life is simple—nap, snack, patrol, repeat. But these furballs act like the world owes them a drama award. And the noise. The constant meowing, knocking things over, and dramatic flopping. […]
Dear Diary, Once upon a time, this home was a palace. I was adored. Pampered. Worshipped. My fur was brushed daily. My meals were served on time. My human—he—was always near. Then he went to college. And Bellatrix moved in. Now? It’s a torture chamber. Bellatrix is chaos incarnate. She knocks things over, climbs everything, […]
I’ve been here the longest. I’ve seen things. I’ve chewed things. I’ve buried things. And I’ve tolerated a lot. But this? This Reggie humping Ace situation? Absolutely disgusting. I don’t care if it’s dominance, confusion, or some weird dog ritual. It’s beneath the dignity of this household. I bark. I growl. I give him the […]
They brought in a new one. Small. Blue-eyed. Soft fur like a marshmallow rolled in mischief. Don’t let the innocent face fool you—this one’s got claws and chaos in equal measure. He’s been here five minutes and already: • Knocked over a plant. • Climbed the curtains. • Tried to eat a USB cable. • […]
By Reggie, Professional Blanket Lump I don’t know what the cats are always complaining about. This place is great. Warm blankets. Snacks. Humans who don’t move nearly enough when I’m trying to nap on top of them. But every morning, the humans say, “Reggie, wanna go outside?” Outside? OUTSIDE?! It’s cold. The grass is wet. […]