Being a CUPPIE -a Canine Urban Princess – can be tough. Whenever my mom Cathy gets frustrated with anything, she takes me out for a walk and she gets frustrated a lot these days. I have to rouse myself from my cushion just because she needs a break.
And then whenever she meets somebody, I have to go along so Cathy can show me off. On Tuesday she decided to meet her friend, my Uncle Lance (he’s big into privacy so she can’t use his real name…gimme a break). My job was to give Uncle Lance a canine experience, since he lives in a no-dog apartment building. (Shouldn’t species discrimination be illegal?) I had to let him hold my leash and deal with all the people who wallked by and said, “Ooh, she’s so cute.”
We ended up walking over a mile. I voted for the bus but Cathy decided we need the exercise. Hah.
And then yesterday, my Aunt Sara took me for my weekly outing to Magnuson Park. I ran and ran. I played with Bailey, Violet and all my other dog friends.
My mom should be exhausted too. When her Wednesday evening class was cancelled at the gym, she booked a session with the trainer so she can work the machines. She got into some new muscle groups, she moaned as she curled up on the couch.
But no. “After today’s teleseminar,” she said to me, “we should enjoy this beautiful sunny weather.”
Uh oh. My royal calendar had marked the afternoon for a Long Hard Nap.
Being a Princess means being on call 24/7. Maybe somewhere there’s a Canine Urban Queen who gets to say, “No thank you.”
Me? I can’t even get into my own crate. Tiger the tabby cat has invaded my territory. She may be over 90 in human years but her strong right paw still packs a mean punch across my nose.