Hi again Folks,
Thanks for joining me – my faithful Foofster fan club!
How are you all? Fed up with February? Just a bit? Don’t blame you. Me too but I’m so glad that January’s over at last. Deary me, didn’t it drag on and on and on. Have faith though, the end’s in sight – Spring is just round the corner and … never fear, for the Foofster’s here – and there are snowdrops in the garden!
With all this talk of Suffragettes and 100 years since women got the vote, (yes, my Best Beloved keeps me well-informed, you see) I’ve been thinking about gender-equality in thedog-world.
And – it seems – us bitches have it pretty good!
Whenever I go to Mungo and Murphy or Jack’s house I’m always given equal rights. In fact, I usually get special rights for I get given a whole sofa to myself, when the boys are forced to share plus I get an equal share of titbits and a cheeky few extras on the side (shhhh don’t tell). Also, the boys are often muzzled in the park or kept on a lead whilst I get to run free, so I can’t complain about getting a raw deal for being female.
How about on the stamina front? Well, it’s fair to say that I have the turbo-power to match the boys when needed as proved by my rocket race trial performance last June at Newmarket. I thought it best not to make a big deal about that (tee hee!) Male egos can be fragile! Health-wise, I think us girls live just as long as the boys, if not longer. We’re a bit more petite but no less robust and not as temperamental as some like to think.
Us girls come at a premium price too. My Best Beloved said that human beings always pay more for the fairer sex. Sorry boys – but there you have it.
The downside of being female though is, of course, our wretched ‘seasons’.
Silly old Foofster was a little misguided last month. I thought my overnight popularity was down to my sparkling personality but – ahem – it turns out I was wrong. There was good reason for wearing those pants. Anyways, that’s all behind us now (‘scuse the pun) which brings me on to my best news ever of the month – er drum roll please and trumpet voluntary ……
The Foofster is no longer on heat!
Yip Yip Yooray!
This means I am now finally foot-loose and fancy-free again. No more ridiculous panties, no more risk of being strangled by that lethal extending cheese-wire of a lead and no more rugby-scrum harassment from unbecoming strangers. Did they seriously think they stood a chance with the Foofster anyway? Tsk. Such delusions of grandeur. Nobody will ever be a match for the Foofster. I’m so in a league of my own, Darlings, don’t you know.
So here below is a picture of me celebrating my new-found February freedom and for the joy of being a fully-fledged emancipated female in a world of equality.
Till next time Folks, ta ra!