Artista
Finally, an artista in my extended family. My friend Kuleba’s hyperactive dog Max, a Parsons terrier, is the new model for a brand of dog food. He’s gotten himself an entourage with an agent, a minder/chauffeur, and a doggy sidekick, a very nice dachsund. Interviewed for this report, Kuleba said, “I feel like Anabelle Rama.” I’ll post Max’s pictures when they’re available.
Some years ago my cats were offered a role on a TV sitcom. “Sige na,” said my former assistant, who was the floor director, “Just one cat, and we’ll take good care of her or him.” “They don’t like strangers,” I said. “I’ll look after the cat,” she said. “They’re snooty and antisocial and I’m sure they won’t like the bida,” I warned her. “The role doesn’t require much, she just has to sit there,” my friend said.
“My cats only speak English.”
“Forget it then.”
“They know a little French, some Italian obscenities. . .”
That was the end of my career as stage mother.
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