The price I have paid, thanks to my reputation of being known as the “Ice Maiden” of RV parks, is we have had to suffer through intense periods of disruption to my way of life of keeping up with the antics of Paris Hilton. My most horribly embarrassing moment dealing with in heat sexuality was when a hunk of a German Shepherd, trained to sniff out illegal immigrants to Arizona in motorhome bins (?) thoroughly confused his checkpoint handler, who didn’t know the difference from, “Growl-l-l-l-l-l,” and, “Wo-wo-wo-wow.”

But, I digress. Thank you for acknowledging my position of being a darling when I take my alpha leader for a walk around a RV park that actually accommodates the 60 percent of motor home, and fifth-wheel travelers who consider some of the most interesting four-footed friends I have yet to meet, as members of our nomadic family. Do you not, after asking permission, kneel down in homage to pet my crown, paying homage to moi, a Princess of the last of the Royal Scots, with the honer of, “Good Boy.”

Take a Good Look

Ouch! There it is, again. I have always been dogged by the gendered challenged who somehow mistake me as one of, “the guys.” Come on, why do you think I vainly wag my proud, feathered, tail when anyone calls me, “pretty.” Why do you think I wear a fashionable, pink, neck scarf? I will have you know that when I visited Basin Street in New Orleans on the Celtic holiday of St. Patrick’s Day —complete with my green fashion accessories— I won the collecting bead contest for females showing the most teats!