I don’t mean to cause offence but I don’t think much of your English weather in November. How can everywhere be totally shrouded by a thick wet blanket for days on end? It’s depressing even for a dog. You go out for a walk along the muddy lanes and not only your paws, but your whole undercarriage becomes splattered by mud and it’s no fun when certain parts of your undercarriage become caked in mud I can tell you! I realise it means I can justifiably lick myself in places that are otherwise considered indiscreet, but the truth of it is, I would rather not get muddy in the first place. My Mistress is none too keen on all the extra washing it creates. She really doesn’t look presentable for anything else when wearing the mud splattered trousers she takes me for a walk in. It wouldn’t be so bad were it not that really wet mud that soaks into the material and is impossible to brush off.
My life is clearly not going to be my own. I’m going to be splashed all over the tabloids. This may be a small exaggeration, it’s just that my Mistress is now writing about my breed for two dog newspapers. I asked if I could check what she was going to say before she sent it, but she said that wasn’t necessary. I’m going to have to take out subscriptions so I can read what libellous comments that she is making about me. It’s hard being a celebrity dog and having people reading about your every move. I wonder how Snoopy copes with his fame.
Dear Snoopy,
As a fellow dog in the public eye, I was wondering whether you could give me some advice on how you cope with your adoring public. At the moment, I can’t stop myself from being pleased to see each an every one of them and accepting their gifts with enthusiastic abandon.
I realise it would be appropriate to adopt a more distant stance but it just isn’t in my nature. Can you give me any advice or would I be better to write to Garfield?
Yours sincerely
Alfie Dog.