A Victim's Perspective

My name is Cindy. I am six years old. I have a cat. His name is Mister Whiskers. He is a purring cat.

For Christmas, Mister Whiskers had kittens. He had five kittens. My Daddy was upset. He said that Mister Whiskers was a stinking polecat, who would eat him out of house and home, and that Mister Whiskers was a stomach and four legs.

But then Daddy got smart. He got a certificate in Racism Industry Studies at Fenris Badwulf School of Telemarketing Excellence. Daddy became an environmental activist. Daddy found out that Mister Whiskers is an endangered species! Now Mister Whiskers gets a fat cheque from the nice Liberal Government. Daddy is going to take me and my Mommy and little brother Billy to the Cayman Islands for a month so Daddy can play golf and thinktank solutions for our endanged species. The nice people from Environment Canada are going to pay. Thank you, nice taxpayers! And they pay for Mister Whiskers and all his special needs! Mister Whiskers likes expensive cat food, and cat treats, and cat toys to play with all his kittens. They play all day long! My Daddy says that Mister Whiskers is a mealticket. My Daddy quit his stinking job so he could look after his new car and be a full time activist.

I love you, nice Mister Fenris Badwulf.

I, Fenris Badwulf, (holding back the tears) helped little Cindy write this. And we do not want that Big Bad Stephen Harper elected, now do we. He will take the food away from Mister Whiskers and make Cindy cry.