(Today's title means: I am packing my bags!)It is official. 48 hours from now Mom and I will be sitting in JFK airport. Well, more specifically, Mom will be sitting. I will be darting to and fro throughout the greater New Jersey area trying to get in some time with my Northern fans before I make time for my international ones. It is a rough life, peeps but someone has to do it.
Mom's crap...I mean stuff...is all over the guest room. She's no where close to being ready. I'm several steps ahead of her. First and foremost, I'm taking several shirts that say a lot about who I am. You've already seen my "Conservative Canine...Right Wing Attack Dog" shirt...but there are a few more that will make their way in my valise.
There is no way I'm going overseas without my Republi-Pooch rhinestone shirt. I asked a certain Senator ensure my hand-made, one-of-a-kind McCain-ine frock was ready...but he was a little busy kicking tail and taking names at a "little church" in California with R. Warren to finish it. And I'm ok with that...
And I can't leave without letting folks know who loves me the most. And let me tell you. That's a hard title to bestow. I have millions of fans. How do you choose the best? Easy. The one who sends you this: 
I wear it proudly.
And finally, I'm pretty sure those rodents with bushy tails live in Frenchie-land as well as in my backyard. If only i had this in two languages. I want to make sure they are not confused. They best fear me across the pond like they do at Lil' Greenie. I am a huntress, people. Fear me.
One thing that will not be making it into my pooch purse is this little number. I gave Mom the silent treatment for weeks after this debacle at Halloween. I am a purebreed Yorkshire Terrier, Lanier. I am not a dress-up doll for your entertainment. Learn the difference. 
Over the weekend I iChatted with Auntie Squooshle. I can't lie. She is the part of the trip I am most excited about. When the three of us are in one room, the world stops spinning. Mainly b/c I told it to. And everyone and everything listens to me. 
Meanwhile. Grandling and Papa are now on their 1048th wheel of cheese. Mom and I have talked to them a few times and while I'd like to tell you what was said, I really couldn't understand a word. Papa was screaming things about "perfection" and "heaven" from the front porch and Grandling was in a fit of hysterical laughter and trying to speak French.I'll just say it: the mix of the two is not pretty. No. Not pretty at all.
I think they are just overcome by this view above...from their porch. Which I'm not even sure Papa has left yet. I wonder if he's even slept?
And of course at some point they'll leave the villa (one can hope for miracles) and stroll the streets of Grasse...
And stare at the stunning hilltop village (Papa's favorite) of Gourdon...
And have meals with views that are as delicious as the food.
I look forward to all of those things. Most especially the meals. Dogs are not dogs in France. They are fur people. FINALLY. Someone who understands. I will be welcomed into every single building, every single room, and every single set of open arms. Not that it is that different from my every-day life...but...c'mon, how great will it be to actually sit at the table?
America can be so boring. Someone bring me my soup!
Love&Licks,
Mayes Capitol Courage
XOXO
have i told you, maemae, that i am jealous of your trip? do you have a slightly bigger bag to put me in?
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