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The Royal Reporter

I'm not fat....I'm fluffy!

It was the Fall Season of 2003. Her Royal Highness, Princess had decided to let her hair grow to lead in the new fall fashions. Little did she know that simply wanting to lead the world in style would lead to scandal and turmoil within her kingdom.

As her hair grew out full and thick, rumors began. "Is she gaining weight? What is her diet like? Does she work out but at all?!" Gossip columnists everywhere speculated on where the newfound shape would lead Princess's international modeling career. Was it in the tank? Had the once regal girl hit rock bottom?

"She needs to get her face out of the cookie jar and exercise more," reported an anonymous insider. "It's the treats I tell you. She's become addicted."

As the holidays neared, Princess's family grew more and more concerned. The Mommy Peasant stood faithfully by Princess's side through the rumors and, towards Thanksgiving, was arrested for intent to buy cookies for Her Highness. "She needs them! People just don't understand," the Mommy Peasant cried out to reporters as she was loaded into the paddy wagon.

After paying the bail, Princess sprung the Mommy Peasant out of jail. Rumor has it, they hit the cookie scene on the way home.

The family was finally forced to hold an intervention. Princess was getting larger by the day. If this kept up, her career would never recover. "But the vet said that her weight is perfect!" defended the Mommy Peasant. However, after a brief picture show (during which there was much "ooo-ing" and "ahhh-ing"), the Mommy Peasant was finally confronted with the truth.

A diet was planned. Cookies would be withheld. No more steak. No more pasta. No more toast with peanut butter. Feeling betrayed, Princess turned on the Mommy Peasant. She spent her time in the kitchen, so close to the jar of cookies that she could almost taste them...if only she was a little taller...and had thumbs.

After 2 weeks of dry, diet doggy food, the day came to welcome Spring. With Spring came a new hair 'do. A short one. One that showed off her fine figure.

"There was a LOT of hair on that dog," stated the royal hairdresser. "I didn't realize that she could grow that much."

And so, with the truth revealed, Princess continues with her career and the peasants are filled with shame and remorse. To serve as a constant reminder, Princess was given a food dish mat that said, "I'm not fat. I'm fluffy." There have been no more rumors since. The "d-word" will never be mentioned again.

Who is She Kidding?!?

We had some very wet weather yesterday and all last night. Torrential rain invaded my happy little kingdom. It was soooo wet... but eventually even a princess has to go potty. To her credit, the Mommy Peasant tried to warn me that I wouldn't like it. She told me it was pouring down in buckets, but ... I had to potty. So, I leashed the Mommy Peasant up and set paw outside to take care of business.

NOT HAPPENING!!

I gave a "yip" and headed right back inside. Wisely, the Mommy Peasant knew I wouldn't like and kept the door open for my escape. A while passed. The rain settled down some, so she thought we'd give it one more try. I leashed Mommy Peasant up again. By this time, I hadn't pottied in about 15 hours. (I hate pottying inside. It's very unladylike, and I get so embarassed.)

I tried to dive back inside again, but Mommy Peasant decided that I had held it long enough. She picked me up, carried me out into the rain and set me down on WET grass! Ewwwwwww......... I squirmed out of her clutches and hauled her insubordinate tail back inside.

She gave me a loving look, said that she understood and assured me that if I pottied inside, she'd understand. Then she fetched me a cookie for my "bravery".

Eventually, it lulled enough for me take a quick tinkle. (*blush*)

Your Royal Highness, Princess

It's Mocking Me

Cats. What can be said about them? More specifically, what can be said about the tabby that stares at me all day from the safety of the patio...where it knows I can't reach it? It teases me. Torments me even! It walks back and forth in front of the patio doors, swishing its tail and staring at me with a smile upon its vile feline lips. Nothing stands between me and that meal on four paws but a pane of glass and it knows it.

I must get my revenge in subtle ways. Apparently, jumping up on the glass scratching and barking my little head off gets me yelled at. (What does the word "no" mean anyway? I don't get it.) Of couse the jumping and the barking does nothing to thwart my furry nemesis. It continues to stroll casually by, looking over its shoulder and twitching its tail just before it moves on secure that I can't get to it.

But last night...last night I got some measure of revenge. It was strolling by, looking in, peeking to get a glimpse of me. Unbeknownst to it I was hiding behind the chair. *impish giggle* It stopped. Sat down. Put its nose up to the glass hoping to see me charge out, bark and get yelled at. I waited patiently. Then, just as it leaned down to lick its paw, I jumped out from behind the chair!! "BARK BARK BARK!!!" It jumped up and landed in Mommy Peasant's flowers, scared out of its feline wits!

Ha ha! My royal dignity has been restored. The kingdom is now as it should be...until next time.

Your Royal Highness, Princess