Royalty? It’s easier to be a Canine Urban Princess.

I don’t know how the Royal Family does it especially the Queen and Princess Anne. They have to wear shoes, hats and skirts.

Me?  I am a CUPPIE, a Canine Urban Princess. I don’t even own a tiara, thank goodness. Occasionally my mom ties a bandanna around my neck. I have to wear my collar and tags because Mom says she doesn’t want to pay a $75 fine. But otherwise, I get to go barefoot and naked.

When we get home I get to collapse on my bed or my favorite spot on the floor under the coffee table. Mom lets me stay there because she realizes I’m too tired to chew anything and run up a vet bill.

“Maybe the cats could use a dog fix,” she suggests with her sarcastic little smile.

No way. I won’t rise to the bait. I’d like to give that fat Ophelia a fix, but I don’t think it’s what my mom has in mind. And besides I have to think of my position. We princesses always look calm, smug and superior, even when a cat tries to steal our food.

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