This is me in my Ride-Along cage.
Stockholm Syndrome:
Just a note to say what’s up. No time to write a chapter of ‘The Bitch,’ though I know it’s my turn. I’m on my way to Stockholm. This will be my first event this year—a beauty contest— an important one. Doing well could bump me up into the higher rankings. I would be what young pups call, a ‘hot dog.’ Hollywood would notice, and I now have a New York agent, Eli Weasel.
He was Lassie’s lawyer—big time with a waiting list of clients back in the day. After Lassie died he started mainlining katnip and lost everything. He’s a bit long of tooth now, but straight, I think, for the last two years. He’s starting over as an agent for actors and models. Eli’s a bit long of tooth, but I figure he might still know a few tricks, and our names kind of match. I decided to throw him a bone—my career. I’m not sure it was a good decision. Seems like it would be better if he had an office in LA., but it could go either way, I guess. Who knows? Same thing with beauty contests—hold your tail the wrong way and you’re out. And this is not to mention judges, some of which are totally nuts.
There are happy winners and bitter whiners— jealousies, and sometimes fights. That’s show biz. A blue ribbon in this contest would put gold in Eli’s hands, a real door opener, and I am attractive. Males never fail to sniff around—not always a good thing as you will see in Chapter 13 when I get time to write it.
This is me getting ready for the show.
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