GUEST POST: A HISTORY OF MY LIFE IN 10 1/2 PARAGRAPHS!

Bonjour! I'm Lola and that Boris woman with the wild, fair hair has just left me to take Señora Noriega to her boyfriend, Juan Antonio. Señora Noriega, you see, doesn’t drive which is a shame because there’s nothing more délicieux than sitting in a convertible with the breeze rippling through your fur and cooling you down un peu in this heat.

You know, it’s already getting sooo hot here in Andalucia. In fact, I saw my first gecko yesterday in my garden, in my favourite spot soaking up the sun - always a sure sign of the arrival of summer. And, as for July and August with temperatures in the nineties, well, I dread to think how I’ll cope (yawn). I’ve tried Boris woman’s shades but they keep slipping and getting lost way down in all the fur. Sooo much fabulous fur you understand.

Now, sooo many of you, mes chers lecteurs, have asked how I’ve become so well-read and accomplished, speaking French like your average homme in the rue. (Or, should I say, caniche BCBG?) Well, the answer is très simple. Je suis française: And le résultat of all those years in New Labour puppybaccalauréatacadémie studying Chienbaudelaire, Chienvoltaire, Caninecalculus, chienphilosophie (ChienFoucault, ChienDerrida, ChienLyotard - oui, vraiment!) and sooo much else besides... But all this talk about my history and accomplishments is sooo fatigant (yawn), I feel another petit siesta coming on …

Speaking of all my accomplishments, however, does lead me on naturellement to Bo Obama. The Portuguese water dog aka Portie. The FDOTUS.

I bashed out the splash on him in my earlier guest post exclusively on Boris woman’s thingie. Namely, that it was a totally political decision to have as FDOTUS a PWG and not a Bichon ’cos Sarkozy aggravated so many at the G20 summit that the choice of a French breed at the time would have been hors de question.

Well, what are his accomplishments then? You may well ask! Bien sûr, he’ll be useless as a presidential guard dog - I mean, those webbed feet! In fact, I still haven’t fully recovered from a GHASTLY nightmare I recently had - the POTUS being chased by terrorists from the White House and that Portie diving for cover in the Potomac dogpaddling downstream as fast as his webbed feet would take him! Well, as I warned everyone then, what good are webbed feet to the POTUS on land?

But enough of the flip flow of one liners and glib assessments and down to the nitty gritty. And the EXCLUSIVE scoop you’ve all been waiting for… Apart from the fact he can’t hope to match the Bichons for agility, Portie suffers from one HUGE disadvantage. He may be friendly but he’s absolument pas… photogenic.

Dark, furry animals, you see, are notoriously difficile to photograph and the results in newsprint end up as featureless, amoeba-like blobs. La Maison Blanche should have asked the advice of one of the snappers who dog their every step. A Bichon, renowned for its looks and poise, would have been a parfait choice. Even an ugly, ugly mongrel with a patch over one eye - like Bill Syke’s mutt, Bullseye, a real character in the film Oliver - would have been préférable!

President Obama’s spin doctors not only missed the chance of countless, countless photo ops - starring yours truly (plus the President, too, of course way off in the background) - but have also complètement exaspéré countless, countless photo editors! Who are now demanding he change the dog for one beaucoup plus jolie - more like me in fact!

Oh that Boris woman is back again to write more drivel - who’s interested anyway in (yawn) Nightjack, Orwell or K-a-f-k-a. Ugh! Such ugly, ugly names and boring, boring stories - sooo unlike the history of my life. Anyway, I'd better jump in the basket, smile sweetly (it always works) and let her caress my fabulous fur.

PAWNOTE: That’s me in all my pulchritudinous pedigree above and in the side bar. As if anyone could confuse me with that human with the wild, fair hair…(yawn).

LOL LOLA!