Dear Megan and Vitaly,
We heard from our spies about your glorious day, how wonderful it all was and blah de blah blah. Harumph... Megan, you could have at least invited me. I wouldn't have eaten all the Russian tea cakes or have done anything to embarass you like getting out of my saree before the photographers even had a chance to snap my picture. I would have made such a wonderful bridesmaid, though I'm not sure there even is a saree to fit my petite frame, nor a tux made for Spuzzy's build - thick in the thigh and short-waisted as he is.
Anyway, I am sure in your happiness it is easy to overlook the snittiness of foxes and those lesser creatures who never get asked to weddings on sunny, perfect May days under the big tent with lots of hoopla, pomp, and divine light flowing down on everyone in the near perfectness of the day. Sigh. I am certain you will be blissfully happy as you are blissfully unaware of my presence all those years coming into my home to play with my human brother and sister who needed "baby" sitting. Since I never needed "baby" sitting, because I am my own person, or my own vixen, I had no need for you to even stroke my fur or brush my tail. Wait, I don't even have a tail, but that is another story. Well, despite all this abuse and forgetfulness of my very existence, I do wish you divine happiness, joy and may you always have friends of the foxy persuasion, as well as, the human kind to play in the game of life with.
Your devoted friend,
Spuzzalina Hortensia Dancing-Feather Foxfire
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, July 11, 2008
Revelstoke's Story
I received the following communique from my dear brethern, Spuzzy, and thought I'd post it here:
Dear Nato and Phoebser,
This is a letter from Revelstoke S. Fox. Daddy is helping me type, since my fingers are too nubby to hit the proper keys. I wanted to tell you the story of your parent’s ORIGINAL children, me and Spuzzlina, Mervy, Marty, Myron and Celery. At one time, we were enough for them, but I guess they got bored with us and decided they needed human children. Oh well.
Of course, we were all adopted. Actually, we weren’t adopted, we were bought at a store, like some crummy postcard or box of candy. We were actually property before we came into your home and became people.
It all began in 1984, when Sallee and Richard drove their blue Honda Accord Hatchback from their home in San Francisco to Western Canada for a road trip vacation. In Vancouver, just north of Seattle, they were staying at a nice, fancy hotel with a gift shop where I had been imprisoned for many months. Sallee took an immediate liking to me, and bought me. Richard thought she was nuts for buying a kids toy. Somehow, he didn’t understand the cleverness of a fox dressed up in a fox-hunting outfit, with Jodhpur pants and red hunting jacket and boots. You see, I dressed this way so the fox hunters wouldn’t hunt me!
Anyway, Richard and Sallee and I drove further East from Vancouver, through the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Canada. This was before they even had a proper name for me, and of course, I didn’t speak at all. That would all come from Richard.
The road from Vancouver to Calgary goes through the towns of Spuzzum and Revelstoke. Richard thought Spuzzum was the most amazing name—obviously it is a Native American name. After some time, Richard warmed up to me and decided to call me Revelstoke Spuzzm Fox, or Spuzzy for short. Soon after, on the shores of Lake Louise in Canada, I found my voice and my personality, courtesy of my adopted daddy.
I guess you can say he thought I had a “stick up my butt”, because I always talked like I was in a snit about something—a really pissy fox. I think he was making fun of me, but it was better than being ignored. They also made up some silly stories about how I was a Canadian Mounted Policeman, and how I lived in a gypsy circus, and escaped from a South American prison, and so on. I think they have very active imaginations and should get a life.
Spuzzlina was adopted from a National Trust Store in Bath, England in 1988. As soon as Salllee saw her, she had to buy her. She was soft and bendable, and very pretty, but she was also always in a snit. She talked like an old-fashioned school teacher, or maybe an opera singer. There was some story about her being sold into slavery because of a gambling debt, or something. I think she just ran into the National Trust store to escape some fox hunters and their dogs.
Mervy was purchased on the square in Fairfield, as was Marty. Myron was given to us by somebody who was leaving town. Celery was bought in San Diego when Sallee was visiting her friend Beatrix. All of them were designed by Francesca Hoerlein, whose husband is one of Bill Teeple’s artist friends. Mervy has always had a little problem with drug abuse. He doesn’t really understand the difference between right and wrong. He might be a very bad influence on you, so don’t hang out with him too much. Marty doesn’t really speak because he’s just a little baby. He’s enlightened and can fly. Myron and Celery are pretty much ignored all the time. Spuzzlina and I resent Mervy and Marty because they are so cute and stupid. They never say anything intelligent and they are usually very rude.
Somehow, all of us stuffed animals got pushed aside when Nathan and Phoebe came into our house. We kind of resent you both and can hardly wait until you grow up and leave us to the way things used to be. Don’t even think about taking us to college with you! We don’t want to hang out with your beer drinking friends and sit on a shelf while you pretend to study.
What we really need is a good bath and some new clothes. Maybe you can make something for us while you are at camp?
Well, that’s all for now,
Love,
Spuzzy
Dear Nato and Phoebser,
This is a letter from Revelstoke S. Fox. Daddy is helping me type, since my fingers are too nubby to hit the proper keys. I wanted to tell you the story of your parent’s ORIGINAL children, me and Spuzzlina, Mervy, Marty, Myron and Celery. At one time, we were enough for them, but I guess they got bored with us and decided they needed human children. Oh well.
Of course, we were all adopted. Actually, we weren’t adopted, we were bought at a store, like some crummy postcard or box of candy. We were actually property before we came into your home and became people.
It all began in 1984, when Sallee and Richard drove their blue Honda Accord Hatchback from their home in San Francisco to Western Canada for a road trip vacation. In Vancouver, just north of Seattle, they were staying at a nice, fancy hotel with a gift shop where I had been imprisoned for many months. Sallee took an immediate liking to me, and bought me. Richard thought she was nuts for buying a kids toy. Somehow, he didn’t understand the cleverness of a fox dressed up in a fox-hunting outfit, with Jodhpur pants and red hunting jacket and boots. You see, I dressed this way so the fox hunters wouldn’t hunt me!
Anyway, Richard and Sallee and I drove further East from Vancouver, through the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Canada. This was before they even had a proper name for me, and of course, I didn’t speak at all. That would all come from Richard.
The road from Vancouver to Calgary goes through the towns of Spuzzum and Revelstoke. Richard thought Spuzzum was the most amazing name—obviously it is a Native American name. After some time, Richard warmed up to me and decided to call me Revelstoke Spuzzm Fox, or Spuzzy for short. Soon after, on the shores of Lake Louise in Canada, I found my voice and my personality, courtesy of my adopted daddy.
I guess you can say he thought I had a “stick up my butt”, because I always talked like I was in a snit about something—a really pissy fox. I think he was making fun of me, but it was better than being ignored. They also made up some silly stories about how I was a Canadian Mounted Policeman, and how I lived in a gypsy circus, and escaped from a South American prison, and so on. I think they have very active imaginations and should get a life.
Spuzzlina was adopted from a National Trust Store in Bath, England in 1988. As soon as Salllee saw her, she had to buy her. She was soft and bendable, and very pretty, but she was also always in a snit. She talked like an old-fashioned school teacher, or maybe an opera singer. There was some story about her being sold into slavery because of a gambling debt, or something. I think she just ran into the National Trust store to escape some fox hunters and their dogs.
Mervy was purchased on the square in Fairfield, as was Marty. Myron was given to us by somebody who was leaving town. Celery was bought in San Diego when Sallee was visiting her friend Beatrix. All of them were designed by Francesca Hoerlein, whose husband is one of Bill Teeple’s artist friends. Mervy has always had a little problem with drug abuse. He doesn’t really understand the difference between right and wrong. He might be a very bad influence on you, so don’t hang out with him too much. Marty doesn’t really speak because he’s just a little baby. He’s enlightened and can fly. Myron and Celery are pretty much ignored all the time. Spuzzlina and I resent Mervy and Marty because they are so cute and stupid. They never say anything intelligent and they are usually very rude.
Somehow, all of us stuffed animals got pushed aside when Nathan and Phoebe came into our house. We kind of resent you both and can hardly wait until you grow up and leave us to the way things used to be. Don’t even think about taking us to college with you! We don’t want to hang out with your beer drinking friends and sit on a shelf while you pretend to study.
What we really need is a good bath and some new clothes. Maybe you can make something for us while you are at camp?
Well, that’s all for now,
Love,
Spuzzy
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Great-Great-Great Grandma Sally Fox
I have learned that Mummy's dear friend Deb in Tennessee may be our long lost cousin. She has found in her genealogical research an ancestor named Sally Fox!! Well, I am a fox, and Mummy was originally a "Sally" though she did not know she was named for anyone in particular. Coincidence?? And now Deb has discovered one of her great-great, great?-great? grandmothers was Sally Fox! It must mean something, yes?
Foxes of the World Unite
Dear Spuzzy,
You've not spoken in so long, I forgot what you sounded like! Stuffed foxes of the world unite or untie. Yes, untie your shoes and booties and run free, bare-pawed or bear-pawed. Wait a sec, it is winter and too cold to get rid of those booties, yet. N'est-ce pas?
I think flame throwing sounds fun - where do we go to do it? Who do we throw flames at? Is this going to be a throw-down, show-down? What does it all mean?
I have decided to devote my life to ending speciesism. Last week was inspiring celebrating the achievements of Dr Martin Luther Kingfox. Yes, I have a dream that all God's foxes and dogs and cats and even stuffed foxes and dogs and Garfield... well I'm sorry, but I do forget where I was going with this. Oh well.
Oh, and yes, for the record, I just want to make sure that everyone is very clear that I am not in any way, shape, or form related to Condoleezzzzza Riceball. I saw her on the TV last night watching the State of the Union address and though she kind of resembles me with that Spuzzyesque snarled mouth, we are not cousins, not related and have nothing in common whatsoever. Whereas I am made of stuffing, I am certain that she is made of something very bitter and toxic to humankind and foxkind and even planet Earth, indeed. Do not think for one second that the Z's in our names unite us. They do not. She has proven herself to be part of the alien race and if it were up to me, I'd send her back in the spaceship on which she arrived.
Dreaming of Democrats!
Spuzzalina
You've not spoken in so long, I forgot what you sounded like! Stuffed foxes of the world unite or untie. Yes, untie your shoes and booties and run free, bare-pawed or bear-pawed. Wait a sec, it is winter and too cold to get rid of those booties, yet. N'est-ce pas?
I think flame throwing sounds fun - where do we go to do it? Who do we throw flames at? Is this going to be a throw-down, show-down? What does it all mean?
I have decided to devote my life to ending speciesism. Last week was inspiring celebrating the achievements of Dr Martin Luther Kingfox. Yes, I have a dream that all God's foxes and dogs and cats and even stuffed foxes and dogs and Garfield... well I'm sorry, but I do forget where I was going with this. Oh well.
Oh, and yes, for the record, I just want to make sure that everyone is very clear that I am not in any way, shape, or form related to Condoleezzzzza Riceball. I saw her on the TV last night watching the State of the Union address and though she kind of resembles me with that Spuzzyesque snarled mouth, we are not cousins, not related and have nothing in common whatsoever. Whereas I am made of stuffing, I am certain that she is made of something very bitter and toxic to humankind and foxkind and even planet Earth, indeed. Do not think for one second that the Z's in our names unite us. They do not. She has proven herself to be part of the alien race and if it were up to me, I'd send her back in the spaceship on which she arrived.
Dreaming of Democrats!
Spuzzalina
Sunday, January 13, 2008
True Breathairian
I've been prompted to explain my lifestyle commitment to Breatharianism! It is all about the Breath - the Prana. Or is it Praha?
Yes, I did mean to say "Praha" - one of the great cities in the world, where life is beautiful and sumptuous and richly textured and I'm lobbying for Ma-Maa to take me there in our great travels that we are sure to take someday. She has not been there since 1970, which was truly a stupid time to visit because the Communists had clamped down on everything after the Prague Spring and nothing was fun or even funny any more. Maybe Jacqueline will take me there next time she goes - I believe she has had more luck than Ma-Maa in this regard.
But I digress as we foxes tend to do. You see, I live solely on air. It is far better than being just a plain old vegetarian, or a vegan or a live food cultist as Ma-Maa has aspirations for, or a fruitarian. It is the purest of the pure. I don't feed my body any of that toxic stuff called food! Now, it has been explained to me that this path takes a couple years of transitioning with "Yellow" food. But why not eat just purple food? I like purple. Ma-Maa likes purple, grapes and eggplants, and grape soda, and purple cabbage (well maybe not!), and plums, and purple green beans, which doesn't make sense at all, and purple carrots and dark purple beets. Mmmmm -borscht! I could get behind such a plan. And of course, there is chocolate - yes, that is almost purple, isn't it? We foxes tend to be a bit color blind, so you will have to inform me on that one.
Apparently Wiley Brooks, the Founder of the Breatharian Institute of America preaches that we should be eating ONLY McDonald's cheeseburgers and Diet Coke as they are food which will help us transition to the 5th dimensional earth. Poppycock! Ma-Maa's friend Kamalla was a student of his in the 80's in Marin County and it is TRUE, she ran into him in the San Rafael McDonald's eating this absurd diet. I don't see how he has the gall to call himself a TRUE Breatharian. No, I am the truest of the true Breatharians. And nobody has to tell me what dimension I am in because I know from the core of my Being that it is the 17th!
Love Peace Bliss
SpuzzL
Yes, I did mean to say "Praha" - one of the great cities in the world, where life is beautiful and sumptuous and richly textured and I'm lobbying for Ma-Maa to take me there in our great travels that we are sure to take someday. She has not been there since 1970, which was truly a stupid time to visit because the Communists had clamped down on everything after the Prague Spring and nothing was fun or even funny any more. Maybe Jacqueline will take me there next time she goes - I believe she has had more luck than Ma-Maa in this regard.
But I digress as we foxes tend to do. You see, I live solely on air. It is far better than being just a plain old vegetarian, or a vegan or a live food cultist as Ma-Maa has aspirations for, or a fruitarian. It is the purest of the pure. I don't feed my body any of that toxic stuff called food! Now, it has been explained to me that this path takes a couple years of transitioning with "Yellow" food. But why not eat just purple food? I like purple. Ma-Maa likes purple, grapes and eggplants, and grape soda, and purple cabbage (well maybe not!), and plums, and purple green beans, which doesn't make sense at all, and purple carrots and dark purple beets. Mmmmm -borscht! I could get behind such a plan. And of course, there is chocolate - yes, that is almost purple, isn't it? We foxes tend to be a bit color blind, so you will have to inform me on that one.
Apparently Wiley Brooks, the Founder of the Breatharian Institute of America preaches that we should be eating ONLY McDonald's cheeseburgers and Diet Coke as they are food which will help us transition to the 5th dimensional earth. Poppycock! Ma-Maa's friend Kamalla was a student of his in the 80's in Marin County and it is TRUE, she ran into him in the San Rafael McDonald's eating this absurd diet. I don't see how he has the gall to call himself a TRUE Breatharian. No, I am the truest of the true Breatharians. And nobody has to tell me what dimension I am in because I know from the core of my Being that it is the 17th!
Love Peace Bliss
SpuzzL
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Lucky Dog
I don't mean to sound bitter or anything, but I think you have had SOOOOOO many more privileges than I over the years.
I looked through Ma-Maa's files and found this photo of you, Nappy, and the baby Nappy's having a fine time in Florida.
I looked through Ma-Maa's files and found this photo of you, Nappy, and the baby Nappy's having a fine time in Florida.
You all got to go to Disneyworld while Spuzzy and I cried our hearts out and had a lonely Christmas back in Iowa with the electricity off due to the ice storm.
BRRRR - that was miserable.
BRRRR - that was miserable.
Why were we so spurned? Was it our snitty ways?
Not Easy Being A Fox
My dear brother Mervy,
Are we not all just simple canines? Why can't canines just get along?
You may have your blog if you want to have a blog - a dog blog, if you will.
Just please convince that sorry lot of foxhounds to stop chasing Spuzzy and me and leave us Vulpes vulpes alone.
I mean, isn't it bad enough that we carry the shame of Fox News stealing and then smearing our noble name throughout the airwaves of the world? I rather suspect that Spuzzy's long season of silence has to do with this painful humiliation.
Your sister in the canine world,
Spuzzalina
Are we not all just simple canines? Why can't canines just get along?
You may have your blog if you want to have a blog - a dog blog, if you will.
Just please convince that sorry lot of foxhounds to stop chasing Spuzzy and me and leave us Vulpes vulpes alone.
I mean, isn't it bad enough that we carry the shame of Fox News stealing and then smearing our noble name throughout the airwaves of the world? I rather suspect that Spuzzy's long season of silence has to do with this painful humiliation.
Your sister in the canine world,
Spuzzalina
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