Day 566

August 25, 2018

The maternal and paternal figures continue to insist upon referring to me as "Alex," despite hundreds of attempts on my part to inform them that my preferred nomenclature is "Lionheart the Horsebreaker, King of the Dinosaurs."

I was most disappointed this morning to discover that the canine companion of our most recent house guest (the parental figures refer to her as "Auntie" despite the fact that she is clearly not a biological descendant of my noble lineage. Nevertheless, I digress) had spent the night at an alternative locale. The parental figures attempted to rectify my dejection with fried potato discs. I allowed them to pacify me for the time being.

I was very briefly introduced to my elder sibling's friend; a highly gregarious person who seems most enthusiastic about my very existence. I find this behavior to be simultaneously amusing and pleasing.

The maternal figure strapped me into my transportation harness with empty promises of equine and canine visitations. I readily agreed to tolerate the discomfort of that wretched device, believing her to be sincere. What I endured was endless torture and transfer from smaller mode of transport to yet smaller; and all for naught. The promised equestrian paradise was alas free of so much as a horse hair bracelet; and the aforementioned canine display turned out to be no more than a terrier on a key chain. Nevertheless, I persisted in my vain hope of a pleasurable experience, and made the acquaintance of several interesting infants.

Again the maternal figure attempted to pacify me by purchasing a small knitted lion - an admittedly endearing little thing which I have dubbed, "Eustace the Mighty Lion Cub." The maternal figure calls it "Baby Lion." Her infantile behavior is becoming less tolerable by the day.

Upon the purchase of the aforementioned terrier, the maternal figure pursued me relentlessly across the vasty plains of this horseless, dogless hell, fraught with strange men in baggy patterned diapers that were clearly not well designed for the purpose, until I was too exhausted to utter a single intelligible phrase.

When I awoke, we had somehow transported from the Land of Impractical Diapers to The Road That's Almost Home and I was strapped into yet ANOTHER transportation - read torture - device, and forced to assist in the selection of animal carcasses to cook for my elder sibling and his partner.

The one true shining moment of the day was when I was given appropriate dominion over my subjects - the dinosaurs - for but a mere span of moments - before I was shut away in my wooden, star-strewn prison for yet another night.