Date: 07.18.19 | Time: 1000 Hours | Location: Pack-n-Play, Homebase.
Training camp continues. I am pleased to report the parentals have been vetted and given Security Clearance 4. Not high enough to interfere with our operations but enough to provide our care without hindrance. The female parental has received the designation M and the male parental D.
I still have not learned the stealthy art of continuously rolling. Must master this immediately to gain greater access to restricted areas. Exercises continue.
Sometimes I feel like having a little meltdown. My legs muscles have grown very strong from thrashing my feet around when the bottles take too long to reach my location or when I am left on my tummy longer than I like.
I have spent much time in the car simulator recently. M moves my foot and pushes the car forward a few inches. We repeat the process many times. I feel like she’s trying to communicate something. If it’s a coded message, I have yet to interpret it.
I’ve decided to protest the training camp’s infuriating habit of promoting daytime sleep. Twinkle Toes falls for it every time, napping three times a day without protest. Sometimes four!
I am made of stronger stuff. They will not break me. M says I am tired because I am cranky. I answer no one ever saved the world while they were napping. Sometimes I succumb once or twice a day, but it’s never longer than 30 minutes. Victory.
Slowly, people become more interesting. Twinkle Toes has told me for some time it is quite interested to stare at faces. I have never spent much time on it, but I admit to increasing interest. I also smile and giggle a lot. This is evidence one can be a suave, sophisticated, deadly master spy and still have a sense of humor.
No one can rival the strength of my grip. Once I latch onto your finger, you’re not getting it back until you answer my questions.
M has started a new piece of our training. We are strapped into restraining seats, covered in protective wear, and shown mushy substances on a shallow, dished utensil. I doubted what I was meant to do, yet when she put it near my mouth, I found it opening unbidden and closing around the utensil. Some sort of natural body instinct I have yet to name. The mushy substances appear to come in several flavors. I liked the first (codenamed “sweet potato”) and utterly despised the second (“acorn squash”).
F delights in testing the bounds of my physical capabilities. I also enjoy this. We practice standing and sitting a lot. I am very good at standing. I overheard M tell F she thinks I might be one of those agents who skips crawling and goes straight to walking. I’m not sure what this means, but if it means I beat Twinkle Toes to something, I’m all in.
M has gone and gotten herself injured during maneuvers several weeks ago. Foolish, I know, but what can you expect from someone who is merely a handler for a master spy such as myself? She limped around for a long while, leaving F to shuttle us from place to place. She is no longer limping. I believe there is a medical procedure scheduled to fix the problem. Perhaps she will jump a little higher over the training grenades next time.
We have visited with Grandma and Grandpa Pig several times. Grandpa Pig turned 50 years old last weekend. We arranged for M and F to drive us to the celebration. He must possess a great quantity of wit and skill to last so long in such a dangerous line of work. I shall have to consult with him in the future.
M has had far too much time to be productive. I must interrupt her now. Terminating transmission.