The horror that is rain

I have a strong dislike to rain. Really anything that makes the grass wet. It's completely inconvenient.

My companions realize I hate the rain and laugh as I scamper as delicately as I can on the wet surface. It's bad enough I am forced to relieve myself outside but to do so when I'm standing in a few feet of mud and getting pelted by rain is just humiliating. I am quite certain Kate Middleton is not made to suffer such humiliation. I bet they don't even let her feet get wet.

It has rained here for the last few days. And by rain, I mean the sky is falling kind of rain. Exceptions to the no peeing inside rule should have been made. I tried to protest this cruelty by hiding at the mere mention of "outside" but Mommy usually found me and dragged me out. I stood underneath the patio table shivering hoping they'd get the hint and I even went on strike and refused to relieve myself last night. Still the rain did not stop and the inhumane rule was not lifted. By this morning, I simply could not hold it any longer (a girl has her limits).

I have decided to craft a list of demands to make future trips outside more bearable.

1. Rain, snow, garden hoses, anything water related should not be allowed. Since I do like running in grass and my understanding is that grass needs water I'm willing to compromise a bit. It may rain between the hours of 12 am and 3 am every day but the sun must dry all rain before my delicate paws touch grass at 6 am. If the grass is the least bit wet, I will revert back to my earlier demand of no water at all outside, ever. It's your move Mother Nature - choose wisely.

2. As I'm not sure how reasonable this rain demand is... Mother Nature seems like a moody bitch. I need these supplies pronto:

• A poncho - preferable in something that doesn't clash with my beautiful red hair - I'm thinking green or a nice black. Or maybe navy blue. I'm open to suggestions.
• A boots - I saw a nice pair of rain boots in the paper once. Wellies would be nice as an off brand may leak.
• A personal assistant - no laughing please. I heard on the news that P. Diddy has an assistant to carry an umbrella over his head. I want that. Said assistant will immediately be terminated if a drop of rain touches me. I also demand that the assistant carry me outside and place me under a shelter with dry ground (see next demand).
• A shelter (aka bathroom) must be immediately built outside. I prefer walls so the neighbors stop looking at me as I go to the bathroom. I'm convinced they are snickering at my antics. I also want the floor to be dry at all times. A grass floor would be nice but the grass must be no longer than an inch and a half high. The shelter must be climate controlled, no wind, and a balmy 55 to 60 degrees year-round.  Don't worry, I won't go crazy like those celebs and demand that it be stocked with only one color treat and bottled water shipped from France. 

This list is obviously just the start and may be revised and edited at the sole discretion of ... well me. Option 2 is not negotiable as I'm sure my parents can make all those demands happen in about a week.

No Beauty Rest Sunday

I'm a little miffed right now. Apparently everyone but my Dad knows that a real Princess needs her beauty rest. First, Mommy and Daddy have been home almost all weekend due to a "storm". This means, I need to follow them at all times to ensure that they aren't eating treats without me. Hence, I got a little less than my normal eighteen hours of sleep on Saturday. By today, I was ready to curl up on the sofa and snooze the day away - treats or no treats. My Dad obviously didn't get the memo that the family room was my zone for the day. As in keep out Dad.

Not only do you put a huge wrench in my Saturday napping plans but now you're going to destroy Sunday too? I shake my head in wonder.

Apparently this Sunday and every Sunday through winter is game day. The TV is blaring, I'm forced to wear my team jersey shirt, and sleep is out of the question. If the game is on, the house is loud. There is a lot of screaming and "coaching" although the mini-people on the TV never seem to hear him. I glared at him multiple times but to no avail. It's been at least two hours and I'm getting lightheaded from sleep deprivation. Someone call PETA. This animal cruelty needs to stop.

Allow me to introduce myself

I never thought I’d be writing a blog. The fact that I don’t have opposable thumbs is a hurdle - it does make typing hard!  But my human companions are gone at least nine hours a day, so I find that I have a lot of free time. (Time I can spend crafting witty blog posts and learning how to type). Left to my own devices, I become bored quickly. I guess you could say I'm not very self-sufficient. Not to mention, a girl can only nap so much.

So where do I start? I feel like I'm writing a dating profile. Not that I've been on a dating site but I've seen the commercials. I'm an adorable redhead that loves long walks (beach not necessary), cuddling on the sofa and playing fetch. I'm outgoing and haven't met a human or animal that I don't like. And I guess I need to get this out of the way... I'm a dog. I don't really like that word. It's so one dimensional and ordinary and I am anything but ordinary. My companions (who I call Mommy and Daddy) coo that I look like a stuffed animal and that I'm "so expressive". I take this to mean I'm extraordinarily good looking (agents - call me) and intelligent. Plus, I'm a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. For those of you not in the know, that means I am not just an ordinary dog. I'm the dog of royals. My ancestors lived in palaces. There's even a rumor I'm allowed in all government buildings in the United Kingdom (America - get on board). Hence my blog name - The Pampered Princess. If my ancestors lived with royals, then of course they would be royal too. I certainly think I could handle a royal life. I imagine myself lying on a plush sofa all day and being handfed. Alas, I was born in America where royalty is frowned upon in principle but adored on the simple basis that most kids have an unrealistic goal of growing up to be a prince or princess (thanks fairy tales!).  I have no explanation why adults are equally as fascinated by royals, except maybe it's just the whole prestige and celebrity factor.

Back to the blog though... This is my space to write about my life. I hope you enjoy but if not at least I can put my newly learned typing skills to work.