This is my dog — her name is Princess Alice Gertrude McBeal Miller, the 4th, Duchess of Dog. You may call her Princess, Alice, Her Royal Highness, and if you’ve earned extra special favor from the royal family, you may call her Gert. I wouldn’t hold my breath for that last one, I’ll warn you.
Since every good looking party boy who works at the groomers thinks that its okay to play grab-ass with my little girl, I have to put away Fun-Loving-Author-Of-Books, A.P. Miller away, and break out Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller is exactly what you think of him as; Mr. Miller wants to argue with the store manager over expired coupons, Mr. Miller wants a free stay at a hotel because there were only two towels (and not three), and Mr. Miller has strong opinions about how the youth these days doesn’t work as hard as his generation. I don’t like being that guy, but when guy smiley is walking out of the grooming area with an arm full of the world’s most beautiful dog, looking pleased with himself that he got to hold her in his arms, then my hand has been forced.
For the public at large, I am assembling a list of rules that MUST be abided by when talking to, or in the vicinity of my most precious pup. These rules are not negotiable, nor are they a joking matter. The consequences for violating any of these rules will be swift and cruel, and willingly repeated for each infraction.
So in hopes that we all get on the same page, if you find yourself in the presence of my most precious princess, the following protocols will be observed:
- You will wait for the dog to acknowledge you before you acknowledge her — she is a breed with a lot of mercy, so the chances of her saying high to such peasantry as yourself is high, but you will wait until she initializes contact.
- If you are blessed enough to be acknowledged by her royal highness, then you will address her as nobility, as described above.
- If the Princess decides to start licking you, this is her sharing her abundance of love, and you will willingly endure her affection until she is done licking you. You do not dictate the Princess’ whims, you indulge them.
- If the Princess exposes her belly, you will rub my dog’s belly until a time when she has had her fill of belly rubs. Joke’s on you, she never grows tired of belly rubs.
- If you were born as a male, or currently identify as one, keep walking. My dog has no time for boyfriends, ever. It’s not cute watching you make over my dog, it’s not precious how she flirts with you. If I see you getting cutesy with my dog, just go ahead and consider me a grizzly bear and understand that you are in danger.
- If my dog happens to be walking in a group with your dog, it is understood that Princess Alice is the superior dog, and that if someone starts attacking dogs, Alice will be protected with your life …even if I have to throw you in front of an attacker.
- It would be far less painful for you to stick your tongue into the exposed base of a lamp that has been plugged in than for me to catch you saying “git” to my darling Alice.
- If you are trusted enough to give my dog a treat, I can, and will, insist that you taste test it before you give it to her. I’m not laughing, this isn’t a joke, I absolutely expect you to take a bite out of a milk-bone before giving it to her.
- Princess Alice is to be petted from head to tail in perfectly even intervals. No exceptions.
- Your dog could have saved Timmy from a well, rescued the box car children, and learned sign language — by interacting with my dog, you are acknowledging that she is the best dog ever.
I can’t believe that we live in such a world where I have to make these kinds of declarations, but here we are.
I would like to thank her royal highness, Princess Alice Gertrude McBeal Miller the 4th, Duchess of Dog, for allowing me to write a blog about her magnificence and excellence.
Long Live Princess Alice!