Dear diary, I went to work again today—well I suppose it’s not quite work. I stood within my enclosed, grassy pen and watched hundreds of tiny people crowd around my windows. The faces they made when they saw me for the first time was enjoyable, to say the least.
I have begun to notice how the expressions are always different on each and every face.
I’m not sure why they are so infatuated with me; all I do is play with my sister and eat the leaves. My biggest fear is that one of the extra tiny humans will crawl through my gate.
I would hate to squish it, but I would hardly be able to see it from up here. This lady brought her tiny humans to pet my sister, Arena, once and she almost knocked the lady over with her tail. Arena told me about a story last night; about huge, lush plains and no windows. A place where no humans went and there was hundreds of brothers and sisters, exactly like me. She told me that’s where our parents are. Diary I hope we can go there one day, maybe the zoo people will feel bad and let us go. Well, the zoo has closed and I need to sleep, so I can be ready to watch for crawling tiny humans tomorrow.
Night, night. -Arnold.
I hope this will suffice.