The worst ceremony of the one year birthday rituals is over, or so I hope. I was returned to the office of the nefarious Doctor last week, where I was subjected to the worst torment imaginable: I was forcibly restrained. After being in the wondrous world of the waiting room, where I roamed free and chased after boys, I was hauled into the dungeons to be tortured. I was first held while an object was rubbed across my gums. I did not mind the object, but I did mind being held down. It happened again later, and I am not certain, as I was already loudly filing verbal complaints, but I believe I may have been given more shots. Here are photographs of the aftermath.
Then today I was taken first to a banquet where I was fed ice cream and played with children. Everyone loved me. I left, and we went to a new place where I could play and, of course, everyone loved me. So I thought, until I was subjected to a much worse form of torture than before: snuggling. I fought. I screamed. I cried. Then a needle was inserted into my arm, and I realized that the whole endeavor was for a good cause, and I became calm. I do not mind needles much, but I do not appreciate being restrained, or worse, cuddled.
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